#because i’ve never had sex with anyone with a vagina | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

0o-junebug-o0 · 8 months ago

Text

Something New and Wonderful

summary: Spencer has some questions he wants to ask you. Neither of you thought it would result in this.

genre: fluff and smut

cw: 18+ mdni! early seasons spencer (season 1 or 2), coming out, talk about sex and relationships, sub!spencer, kinda softdom!reader, dirty talking, praise, use of good boy, begging, couch sex, oral sex (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), gn!reader (reader has a vagina but nothing else is specified (the only word used to describe reader's genitalia is clit)), handjobs, cumming in pants, no use of y/n, autistic!spencer reid (because every spencer is autistic!spencer)

wordcount: 4.2k (I finally caved to writing this and surprised myself)

Spencer has been anxious recently. In the time you’ve known him you’ve never seen him act like this. You can see him gnawing on the inside of his cheek in your periphery. You look between him and the TV and you can tell he isn’t paying attention. He always pays attention when you watch Star Trek together. You’re halfway through watching The Next Generation and even though he’s seen every episode multiple times he always looks just as enraptured by it. But not tonight.

You’re concerned for him. Clearly, something is wrong and it must be big for it to be bothering him this much. After a moment of consideration, you reach forward to grab the remote off the coffee table and pause the episode.

Spencer sits upright almost immediately. His brow is furrowed and he looks back and forth between you and the paused TV with a confused look on his face. “Why’d you pause it?” he asks softly.

You set the remote back down and, tucking one leg underneath you, rotate to face Spencer. He doesn’t speak but you can see the way his mouth contorts slightly as he starts chewing on his lower lip.

“You weren’t paying attention.”

“Yes, I was,” he protests weakly.

You shake your head. “No, you weren’t, Spencer. You weren’t even looking at the screen. You’ve been preoccupied by something, I don’t know what it is but it’s making you nervous. You’ve been chewing on the inside of your mouth all night, you only do that when something’s bothering you. And every time I’ve seen you recently you’ve been anxious.”

He pulls his lip from between his teeth. “Oh. Oh, I’m sorry,” he says shyly.

“What? No, no there’s nothing to be sorry for, Spencer. I’m just worried about you, okay? You can—you can talk to me, you know that right? About anything?”

He nods and you search his face for any sign that he isn’t being truthful and find none.

“You don’t have to, but if you want to talk about it I’m all ears.” You smile at him, hoping to reassure him. You really want to know what’s been bothering him and if there’s anything you can do to help, but you’re not going to make him talk if he doesn’t want to.

You can see him start to chew on his lip again but he notices himself doing it and stops, wringing his hands together in his lap instead. He bows his head and a strand of hair falls from behind his ear. You have to resist the urge to tuck it back.

“Have you, um, have you ever been with a guy?” he asks, still facing forward and looking down at his lap.

You tilt your head at him, confused. Is this what’s been bothering him?

“Or–or anyone who’s not a woman?” he continues, nerves making him stutter slightly.

“What do you mean by ‘been with’?” you ask.

His leg starts bouncing. “Like been in a relationship with. Romantic or sexual. Either.”

“I have. Both, kind of.”

He looks up at you at that. “What do you mean ‘kind of’?”

You chuckle lightly. “Well, I’ve dated a guy. We never had sex though. At least not by the classic definition.”

“Vaginal sex?” he asks simply.

You can feel yourself flush and you have to fight the urge to hide your face.

“Yeah. We had oral sex though.” You intend to stop there but Spencer is looking at you so intently that you keep talking. You’re not sure why he wants to know this stuff but if it helps him feel less anxious, you’ll tell him. It just feels weird talking about the sex or lack of sex you had with your ex to the guy you have a crush on. “He, um, ate me out like twice, I think. I tried to suck him off but I wasn’t ready for that yet so I just gave him handjobs. Mostly we just made out though. Why do you ask?”

Spencer turns bright red and looks away from you, wringing his hands so aggressively some of his knuckles crack. You reach out and rest your hand on his shoulder.

“Spence?”

He freezes for a moment and turns his head until he’s looking in the complete opposite direction of you. “I think I’m bisexual,” he whispers.

Suddenly this all makes sense. “Okay. Thank you for telling me, Spencer.”

He whips back around to face you. “What?” he asks, surprised.

You cock your head at him, confused. “What?” you parrot.

“That’s it? You’re not—you’re not upset?”

“Of course not, Spencer,” you say. It seems ridiculous that he would even think that was a possibility but you know him and you know he’s been running the worst case scenarios over and over again in his head.

“Oh, okay. Good. Um, that’s good,” he says awkwardly, finally turning his body to face you on the couch.

You smile at him. “Why’d you want to know if I’d been with someone who wasn’t a woman?” you ask.

His entire face turns red and you have to fight the urge to tease him. “I was curious. I wanted to know what it was like,” he admits.

“It was good,” you say honestly. “We dated for a little over a year.”

“And you, um, are you dating anyone now?” he asks nervously.

“No. Why? Do you want to ask me out?” you tease, unable to resist.

Spencer opens and closes his mouth without speaking and bows his head, fidgeting in his seat.

Oh. You stare at him with wide eyes. He wants to ask you out? He likes you? Your world feels like it was flipped on its head in the best way possible.

“Spencer?”

He lifts his head slowly, cautiously, like he’s afraid you’ll run the moment he looks at you.

“Do you want to ask me out?” you ask again, moving slightly closer to him.

“I-I, um, I—“ he stutters.

You plant your hands on the couch just in front of his knees and lean forward until your face is less than a foot away from his. You smile at him and his eyes widen. You raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to finish his sentence. When he doesn’t you can’t help but tease him a little. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

Spencer’s eyes widen even further and you can see his chest rising and falling with each rapid breath. He looks adorable like this. There’s movement at the bottom of your vision and you dart your eyes down to see Spencer covering his crotch with his hands. You look back up at his beautifully flushed face with a knowing smile. He looks down slightly, clearly embarrassed.

You can’t have him doing that, not when you want to see his pretty face.

You reach up and hook your fingers under his chin, gently lifting his head to look at you. “C’mon, baby, what happened to that big brain of yours?”

Spencer gasps and whimpers quietly and you have to fight the urge to kiss him right then as arousal pools in your gut.

His mouth opens and closes soundlessly like he’s unable to think of what to say or even remember how to speak. God, he looks gorgeous like this. You notice his gaze fall to your lips and you crawl across the couch, stopping just before climbing into his lap, waiting to see if he's okay with it. You don’t want to push him or make him uncomfortable, that’s the last thing you want to do.

Spencer’s breath hitches in his chest and his hands dart from his lap to gently grab your hips. “Please,” he whispers desperately.

You have to swallow a groan at the sound as you settle onto his lap, straddling his thighs with your own. His fingers dig into your hips and it’s a struggle to not grind against him. You reach up and tuck the loose strand of hair back behind his ear before draping your arms around the back of his neck. “Do you want to take me on a date, baby?” you ask. “Yes or no?”

Spencer nods frantically, his eyes roaming all over your body like he can’t get enough of looking at you. The thought turns you on more than you can believe.

“Words, baby,” you tease. You want to hear him say it. You want to know for sure that he wants you. You’re also curious just how much he’ll surrender himself to you. How easily he’ll let you take control.

“Y-yes,” he gasps. His mouth hangs open and you can feel the rise and fall of his shoulders with each panting breath.

“Good boy,” you say, and he outright moans. Fuck. The sound goes straight between your legs. “I’d love to go on a date with you, sweetheart.” You stare directly into his eyes. “Do you want me to kiss you? Yes or no?”

“Please,” he whimpers. Unable to resist any longer you cup his head in your hands and pull him into a kiss. He kisses you back hungrily. Like he’s been starving for it. God, how is he so good at this? His hands twitch awkwardly at your hips before he seems to find a bit of confidence and slides them up to your waist, hiking up your shirt slightly. You gasp into his mouth at the feeling of his hands touching your skin. You’ve been dreaming about this for months.

You slide a hand from his cheek around the back of his head, curling your fingers into his hair. You don’t even pull but Spencer lets out an almost pathetic whine and starts kissing you with desperate, open mouth kisses. His teeth nip at your bottom lip and you open your mouth.

You kiss him back just as hungrily, tugging ever so slightly on his hair. Spencer’s head falls back, breaking the kiss, as he moans desperately. The sound of his moan and the look on his face has heat building fast between your legs and you can feel your underwear starting to get wet. You pull him into another kiss and rock your hips against his.

His back arches and one of his hands slides up your back to press you closer to him, hiking your shirt up to your chest. The other slips down to your thigh, gripping you tightly just inches away from where you want him. You moan into his mouth as his hips buck up slightly. You continue to rock your hips and drop your hands to his chest to start fumbling with the buttons of his shirt without breaking the kiss. He gasps into your mouth as you unbutton his shirt as quickly as you can. You need him now. You’ll have him in whatever way he’ll let you but you have to have him.

Eventually, you manage to finish unbuttoning his shirt and he leans away from the arm of the couch so you can slide it off his shoulders and toss it to the side. “Please,” he whimpers into the kiss. You pull away and grind your hips harder against his dick, relishing in the way his head falls back and his eyes flutter closed as he moans.

“Please what, baby?” you tease because he seems to like it.

His eyes open and he stares at you, his pupils blown wide with lust. His eyes dart down to your chest as he slides his hands to your sides, slowly pushing up your shirt. “Can—can you take this off? Please?” he pants.

You smile at him and grab the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head. You toss it somewhere to the side and when you look back at Spencer he’s just staring at you, his hands hovering just above your skin. He’s looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

The brief pause gives you a chance to look at him too. He’s gorgeous. His hair is messed up and sticking all over the place. His lips are wet and swollen and his face and neck are flushed red. He’s thin but toned and the only body hair you can see is a small happy trail leading down into his pants. You press your palms against his chest, feeling it rise and fall with each gasping breath he takes, and rub your thumbs over his nipples.

Spencer gasps and his eyes snap shut as his head falls back with pleasure. His hands quickly find their way back to your waist and hold on tightly.

You maneuver him until he’s lying down fully with his head resting on the throw pillow against the arm of the couch, your fingers never leaving his nipples. He whines and gasps desperately, arching his back and bucking his hips, causing his bulge to rub up against you. You moan softly with each thrust of his hips and grind back down against him once you have him situated.

You lean forward until your mouth is hovering next to his ear. You roll your hips down against his and press a brief kiss behind his ear. “So pretty,” you whisper.

“Please,” he begs in a whimpering voice. “Don’t stop.”

You chuckle lightly against his ear before pressing kisses along his jaw and neck. “Of course not, baby,” you say. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You move yourself down and latch your mouth around one of his nipples, pinching the other between your fingers. He lets out a pathetic moan as you toy with him. You groan in response and shift your hips so that each thrust rubs his dick against your clit. You can feel your underwear soak through and wetness sticking to your thighs. Arousal pools in your gut and you can feel the heat climbing up your back as pleasure shoots through your body.

“Fuck! Feels so good!” Spencer gasps. You pull your mouth away and start kissing your way back up his chest and along his neck, until you reach the shell of his ear. You nip at his earlobe and his hips buck up hard, pressing right into your clit and you moan into his ear. His hands reach around you to grab your ass and push you back down against him. “The things I want to do to you,” you whisper breathlessly.

“Please!” he begs. “Tell me! Please!”

You smile and nip again at his ear. “I want to fuck you until the only thing you can do is scream my name. I want to make you feel so good, baby.”

Spencer groans loudly. “Fuck, please. I want that. Please fuck me. I want you so badly. I need you. Please.”

God, the way he’s begging. You love how desperate he is, how needy. He wants you so badly he can’t even control himself. You want to see just how desperate you can make him, see how long it takes until he’s begging you to let him cum. You roll your hips against him, groaning at the thought and the jolt of pleasure that shoots up your spine—another time. But you will make him beg for you.

“Good boy,” you whisper. His back arches, pressing his chest against yours. You shift until you’re only straddling one of his thighs and reach down between your bodies to palm him through his slacks. His hands fall from your ass and scramble frantically at the couch cushion.

His hips buck up into your hand and a long, raspy moan falls from his lips, his eyes fluttering shut. “Thank you! Thank you!” he gasps. At the sound of his pleasure, you start rocking against his thigh, unable to stay still with how turned on you are.

You smile and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Such a good boy, using your manners.”

“Fuck! Please! Please!”

“Please what, baby? Use your words, remember?”

“Please touch me!” he gasps.

“Aww, but I am touching you,” you tease.

He shakes his head frantically and stares at you with desperate, hooded eyes.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Spencer.”

“Please touch my cock!” he gasps. The sound of him saying something so dirty makes you moan and you grind faster against his thigh.

“Good boy, Spencer,” you praise, undoing his belt and slacks. “Such a good boy for me. I’ve got you, baby, don’t worry.”

You slip your hand down the front of his pants and the moment your fingers touch his cock he whimpers pathetically. He’s so wet that your hand glides up and down him with ease and the thought that he’s this turned on because of you drives you crazy. His hands shoot up from the couch and pull you down into another deep and hungry kiss.

You continue to stroke him quickly despite the awkward angle of your wrist, swallowing all the whimpers and moans he makes. His hips buck up into your hand rapidly until he’s practically fucking your fist. He pulls away from the kiss to breathe, gasping like he can’t get enough air. With each stroke he lets out breathy little moans that go straight between your legs. You groan as you grind against his thigh in time to the movement of your hand.

“Oh fuck!” he gasps. “Please! Please! I’m gonna— I’m so close! Please! Please can I cum?”

You lean forward and press a kiss right below his ear. “Good boy,” you whisper. “Come for me, baby.”

As soon as you finish speaking, as if he was holding it back until you gave permission, he cums crying out your name. His head tilts back and his mouth falls open as his eyes screw shut and his face contorts. And fuck if that isn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. His thighs shake and his hips jolt as you stroke him through it, kissing gently all over his face and neck. “Such a good boy,” you whisper. “Did so good for me.”

You keep stroking him, only pulling your hand away once he starts to squirm. He stares at you with big wet eyes. “Th–thank you,” he gasps weakly, turning his face into your neck. “That—that was amazing.

You smile and press another kiss to his jaw. “I–I’m glad, baby,” you say, your voice catching on a groan as you grind your clit onto his thigh.

His hands slide to your hips and hold them tightly, moving with you as you rock against him.

“What about you,” he asks softly. “You haven’t cum yet. Do you want me to touch you?”

You gasp at his words and bury your head into his neck. Yes. You want that so badly, more than you’ve ever wanted anything. But you don’t want him to feel obligated.

“O–only if you want to,” you gasp.

“I want to,” he insists. “Please. Can I touch you? I want to make you feel good.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as a spark of pleasure shoots up your spine at his words. “Fuck,” you groan. “Please.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Spencer stills your hips and guides you off his thigh. You open your eyes in surprise and groan at the loss of friction, rubbing your thighs together to try to make up for it. He gently flips your positions until you’re lying on your back across the couch and he’s settled between your thighs in just his briefs. At some point while he flipped you he managed to get his pants the rest of the way off. He looks so beautiful. Your eyes trail down his chest to the wet patch at the front of his underwear from where he came in his pants. Your hips buck against the air, desperate for him to touch you.

His hands rest at the waistband of your shorts, his thumbs just barely slipping under the elastic as he rubs soft circles into your hips. “C–can I touch you?” he asks nervously.

You nod frantically and lift your hips as he slowly pulls down your pants and underwear. You curl your legs up to allow him to pull them off fully and his breath hitches when he sees you. He rubs your thighs and guides your legs back down around him. As soon as you’re flat on the couch, he reaches up to tug at your nipples and presses his thigh between your legs. You moan loudly, grinding against him, desperate for any kind of friction.

“So pretty,” he whispers, sliding one hand down your stomach. It slips between your legs and you moan as he rubs gentle circles against your clit.

You pant heavily, overwhelmed with pleasure as he touches you so perfectly.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he asks, sounding pleased with himself.

“Yes! Yes! Please! Feels so good!” you cry, rocking your hips up into his hand. He smiles sweetly at you and your stomach flutters. He presses a kiss to your chest and slips further down the couch until he’s lying on his stomach with his head between your thighs, just inches away from your clit. He looks at you for a moment, gripping your thigh hard with one hand and continuing to touch you with the other.

You stare at him with wide eyes. Is he really going to eat you out? You never imagined that would be something Spencer would want to do with his aversion to germs. Part of you is worried that he’s just doing this because he thinks he should but that concern is swept the way the moment he whispers a desperate and needy, “Please?”

Your eyes practically roll back into your head and you nod frantically. Spencer immediately removes his thumb to wrap his lips around your clit. You gasp in pleasure at the feeling of his mouth on you. His tongue darts out and swirls around your clit before he pulls it back and sucks gently. Your hands shoot to his head, your fingers curling into his hair, making him groan against you. The vibration of his moan against your clit causes your hips to buck into his mouth and in response, he drapes one arm over your waist to hold you down. The action makes you dizzy with arousal. With his other hand, he gently presses one finger inside you.

You moan loudly as he laps at your clit and slowly thrusts his finger in and out of you. “Oh, fuck, Spencer!” you cry out. “So good! Such a good boy!”

He moans around your clit and slips another finger inside you. The combination of sensations makes you whine desperately. Arousal coils in your gut and jolts of pleasure shoot through your body. You can feel heat rising up to your neck and you can tell you’re getting close. You’re about to tell him when he curls his fingers up and hits the spot inside you that you’ve never been able to reach yourself. The words disappear from your mind and the only sound you can make is a broken moan. Your thighs shake with pleasure as he continues with his mouth and hits that spot with his fingers over and over again. His tongue swirls around your clit and somehow you manage to gasp, “F-fuck, baby. I’m so close.”

He pulls his mouth away from you slightly but keeps it close enough that you can feel his breath against you. He continues to thrust his fingers in and out of you, hitting that spot every time. “Cum for me, baby, please,” he whispers. “I wanna taste you.”

His mouth latches back around your clit and with a moan you come hard, clenching around his fingers and curling your hands into his hair. You gasp and tremble with pleasure as he works you through it. When you finally come down, he removes his hand and presses a soft kiss to your clit that makes you gasp before kissing his way up to your neck. You roll onto your side and move over slightly so he can slide between you and the back of the couch. He brings the fingers that had just been inside you up to his mouth and licks them clean with a groan.

“Fuck, Spencer,” you gasp with shock. “You can’t just do that.”

“Do what?” he asks innocently but with a smile that shows he knows full well what you mean. He chuckles softly. “You just taste so good, I couldn’t help it.”

You can feel your cheeks burning and you bury your head into his neck with a groan. He laughs at your embarrassment.

“That was amazing,” he whispers and you nod in agreement. “You’re so beautiful. I wish we could stay like this forever.”

Butterflies swarm in your stomach. You smile and press a kiss to his neck. “Me too, baby. You’re gorgeous.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I never want to get up,” he whispers, almost whining.

You laugh and pull back to look at him. “Well, you’re going to have to if you ever want to go on that date,” you tease.

He smiles at you and you feel your heart melt. “Where do you want to go for our date?”

“Tonight?” you ask, surprised.

“If you want to.”

You nod. “How does Indian food sound?”

Spencer’s eyes light up at the suggestion and he presses a soft kiss to your lips. “That sounds perfect.”

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ok, so I've never written smut before but this was just tumbling around in my brain. hopefully I did alright

#criminal minds #spencer reid #autistic spencer reid #sub spencer reid #sub!spencer #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x afab reader #spencer reid x nonbinary reader #spencer reid x trans reader #bisexual spencer reid #sub!spencer reid

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watermelonlovershigh · 4 months ago

Note

i went through your masterlist and i saw you wrote about the reader being insecure about having an outie (literally thank you for even writing about it !! i’ve never seen anyone write about that insecurity before) and i was wondering if you could write about the reader not letting harry go down on her bc she’s insecure about her outtie and harry doesn’t know about her insecurity until he questions why he can’t eat her out and he’s all loving to her afterwards ☺️

"Can I taste you?" /SMUT/

AN: i loved this ask as soon as i seen it because a perfect scenario of how i wanted this to go came to me. and thank you. outies are the most common for women to have. but all vaginas are beautiful. i hope you enjoy and remember to send your feedback to let me know how i've done. thanks for reading. xoxo ps. i debated on posting this today or not after the events that happened two days ago, but i hope by posting this it can distract some of your minds from the devastation of recent tragedies.

This story contains: mentions of a verbally abusive ex, body insecurities, comfort, smut (female receiving oral sex), fluff

{ boyfriendrry - soft!harry - au!harry - dating for three months }

word count- 2,512

You have major insecurities about how your body looks due to an ex boyfriend, so when your current boyfriend Harry asks if he can taste you for the first time, your reaction forces him to give you comforting words to easy your worries.

Over the course of three months, you and Harry have been dating and it's been an incredible experience. Normally, you spend your time at each other's homes, watching films or playing board games. But recently, Harry has been putting more effort into making your time together special. Therefore, when Friday comes, he wanted to take you out for a pleasant dinner instead of remaining indoors throughout the evening.

It's worthy to note that your relationship was initiated by mutual friends. Tina, a friend from your college years, and Carter, who works with Harry, were neighbors growing up. Upon discovering they both had a single friend from their separate lives, they took the initiative to set the two of you up. Although you felt quite anxious about the blind date, you now have no regrets, as it's introduced you to the wonderful person that Harry was.

Another important detail regarding your relationship is that the most intimate you've gotten is making out. You informed Harry on your first date that you wanted to take things slow, and he's respected that boundary. Your first kiss was shared approximately five dates in, and you didn't engage in making out until the sixth date. Although you very much desire going further with your sexy boyfriend, your fear of intimacy is getting in the way, which stems from some very hurtful things your verbally abusive ex once said to you. It's brought your confidence way down and the idea of having sex ever again terrifies you.

Your dinner date was delightful. Harry brought you to an Italian restaurant situated in downtown London, where you had great conversations and delicious pasta. After your meal, Harry invited you back to his place, and you found it hard to say no. You appreciated the warmth and coziness of his charming house. Unlike the standard apartment or house of many millennial guys, Harry's home had the inviting essence of a grandparent's house, specifically the ones that were smoke-free.

As you arrived back to his house, both of you made your way to his couch, where the atmosphere began to shift drastically. During the car journey, it was clear that Harry was restless, his hand lingering on your thigh as he navigated the road. Yet, this version of Harry is unlike any you've previously seen. He kisses you with an intensity that's almost primal, and you find yourself responding eagerly. His large hands gently holds your jaw as your mouths align, and your tongues dance together.

With a brief pause from your lips, Harry begins trailing kisses down your jaw until he reaches your neck. Although he hadn't ventured this far before, the pleasure was so intense that you don't think to stop him. However, your response to his soft inquiry against your warm skin—"Can I taste you? Hhm? I really wanna taste you."—caused your entire body to freeze. This reaction leads Harry to withdraw his lips, concerned that he was progressing too quickly for your comfort tonight.

"Shit, m'sorry. I shouldn't have asked that. Forget I said anythin'. Can just keep kissin' if you'd like. Or not. We can cuddle if you're more comfortable with that. Whatever you want." Nervous Harry tends to ramble a lot, you've come to learn.

The sight of Harry's distress concerning your potential rejection of his suggestion evokes a feeling of sadness within you. You want Harry to, have a taste, as he puts it. You're certain of his talents in that department. Yet, the notion of him seeing you entirely fills you with anxiety. "Um, no, it's not that I don't want you to. It's just um... well..."

"What is it, Y/n? You can tell me. I'd never judge you?" Harry speaks softly, wanting you to know he'd never judge you for your reasoning, nor would he push you to do anything you didn't want to do. It was a mere suggestion on his part from being in the heat of the moment.

With a deep breath, you decide to share, "Um, my ex, the one I've mentioned before...... Well, anytime we'd get intimate, having sex or other things, he would constantly criticize my body. He would highlight specific areas that he found unappealing, often saying how I didn't look like his past partners. He even suggested that I get surgery to resemble the women he viewed in porn." It's now apparent that his addiction to pornography significantly influenced his views, causing him to adopt an unrealistic standard of beauty for women to have.

Shocked, Harry exclaims with anger bubbling in his chest, "I can't believe he would say such things to you. M'sorry. I want you to know that I would never think or express those words to you. Every body is uniquely different, and that's what makes us who we are. When you're ready for us to be fully intimate with one another, please remember that your appearance will never concern me."

His warm words have a profound effect on your heart. Although the remarks from your ex continue to echo in your thoughts, the notion of Harry eating you out becomes increasingly enticing. Dismissing your anxieties, you respond with certainty, "We can... I mean, you can if that's what you want to do. I trust you, Harry. It’s not that I was ever against the idea of you eating me out or us eventually having sex. Just um, my ex's criticisms left me feeling insecure about how you would view my body. But after sharing what I did, I feel better about it and trust you enough to go there with you."

Harry looks directly in your eyes before confirming, "You sure? I don't have to if you think it's too much tonight. We can always wait until you feel more comfortable."

"I'm sure, Harry." If he keeps stalling and looking for your reassurance, it may lead to you overthinking the situation and reconsider your permission. The quicker he begins, the better. Harry leans in to place a final kiss on your lips before he slowly kneels down in front of you. With a measured pace, he starts kissing up your jean covered legs, moving from your knees to your upper thighs. When you felt his fingers exploring your empty belt loops, you gave a nod, giving him the go-ahead to slide the fabric down.

After your jeans have been entirely taken off and carelessly thrown onto the living room floor for later attention, Harry looks down and notices a wet patch on the front of your underwear. A smile forms on his face, pleased to see that you've become so aroused just from kissing. He wonders how you've manage to stay so composed during your past make out sessions when things didn't progress further like they are tonight. He's knows for himself personally, he often had to sneak away to the bathroom to relieve himself after your dates when lengthy kissing sessions were involved.

In a display of bravery, instead of waiting for Harry to ask if he could pull down your panties, you raise your hips from the couch and start removing them yourself. You consciously avoid looking down, fearful of his reaction, and keep your eyes fixated on the ceiling. When Harry catches sight of the lower half of your exposed body, he appears bewildered, unable to identify any imperfections that your previous partner could have mentioned. You look completely normal in his eyes.

In the past, Harry has slept with several women and with each one, has appreciated their bodies as they were. To him, as a grown ass man, pussy is pussy, regardless if the women was clean shaven or rocking a bush. Whether her lower lips were petite or more pronounced, he found all variations to be perfectly normal and enjoyable. (As long as they were clean, hygiene wise, of course.) Just like he's aware no two dicks look the same either.

"Y/n, look at me."

You cast a hesitant glance downward, where you notice a gentle smile on Harry's face, making his dimples pop out more prominently. He extends his hands to grasp yours, which are resting at your sides, and speaks in a soothing tone, "Do you know what I see, Y/n? Hm? I see a perfectly normal vagina. It appears entirely typical. In my past experiences with various women, I can honestly say that many of them resembled yours. I believe what yours looks like is quite common, at least based on what I've seen in person. What is often seen in porn is largely artificial. Many of those women undergo surgeries to achieve those Barbie lookin' genitals. So do not allow anyone to convince you that this *gestures towards your pussy with his hands* is anythin' but natural, normal."

His sincere compliments nearly bring you to the brink of tears. Where has Harry been all your life? He's always so kind and nurturing. His personality is completely different from any man you have ever dated or had a fling with. He seems to be the epitome of perfection, and you're starting to think that you might be in love with him, even after just three months of dating.

Just before he starts, Harry asks a final question. "One last question before I begin. Did your ex at least manage to make you come when he ate you out?" He's eager to know this information to ensure that he can provide an exceptional performance, aiming for you to come hard from just his tongue alone.

Shaking your head, you respond embarrassedly, "No, um, he typically only spent a few minutes down there, and it was never long enough for me to reach an orgasm." It perplexed him how any man, apart from a gay man of course, could limit themselves to just a few minutes of giving oral pleasure to a female, when he personally could easily immerse himself in a woman's pussy for an eternity. Engaging in such acts may very well be his greatest passion.

"We'll have to change that, won't we." Harry speaks seductively right over your damp pussy, his hot breath bringing chills up your spine, and moving one of his hands out of your grasp to rest on your pubic bone. Maintaining eye contact, you observe as Harry leans in and traces a broad line from the hole in which your dripping from, up to your clitoris. He then proceeds to circle his tongue languidly around your clit while his thumb holds back the hood for more exposure, prompting you to arch your body against the couch in pleasure. The sensation his tongue is giving you is far more pleasurable than any experience you had with your previous partner(s).

With one hand still intertwined with yours, which remains at your side, Harry stays persistent in licking, sucking, and almost devouring your entire pussy as if he hasn't eaten all day. He eats you like a starved man. Eventually, he lets go of your other hand and splays it out on your bare thigh, encouraging you to spread your legs wider for him. You find it increasingly difficult to keep your legs from closing as he concentrates on your throbbing clit.

Harry realizes now that your hands are no longer in his, they seem to be longing for something to hold again. Momentarily withdrawing from your slick cunt, he instructs, "Put your hands in my hair. I don't mind. Pull and tug as you please; it won't hurt me, promise." With a hint of hesitation, you comply. You lace your fingers through his brown curls and as soon as his mouth returns to your clit, you can't help but tug on his hair, drawing him impossibly closer to your core.

He carries on for another three minutes, making your sensitivity levels escalate and your body grow warmer. With one final, firm tug on his hair, you cry out, "Oh my God! Mhm, fuck! I'm gonna come, Har......Harryy!" At that moment, an overwhelming sensation washes over you. As Harry continues to flick his tongue over your pulsating clit, you hold his head tightly against you, not caring whether he can breath or not in the moment. As the intense orgasm envelopes you, your mind becomes completely empty of any worries or thoughts.

Slowly, the intensity of your high starts to subside, leaving you breathless on Harry's couch as he gradually removes his mouth from your sensitive pussy. While your eyes focus their gaze on the ceiling, you felt the soft caresses of Harry's thumbs tracing circles on your bare thighs, which finally compels you to look down. The first thing you notice is his face covered in a glossy substance from having been nestled between your legs, and then a smile that was unmistakably joyful.

You're completely lost for words. That may have been a stronger orgasm then you've ever given yourself. "So...." Harry begins nervously, "how was that?"

"Um.... wow, that was.....just wow."

Harry finds amusement in how he's rendered you at a loss of words. "Made you speechless, have I?" he teased. You nod in agreement, prompting him to continue. "See, I promised you there was nothin' to fear. Your pussy is as beautiful as it is tasty. You should never feel self-conscious with me; I'd never pass judgment on you for somethin' out of your control." His honesty touches your heart. He consistently proves himself to be a true gentleman, elevating your standards for men to a very high level. You really hope this relationship lasts, because you believe it'll be difficult to find someone as perfect as Harry ever again.

-------------------------------

Harry assisted you in cleaning up and asked if you'd like to stay the night. You had spent nights together in the past, alternating between each other's homes, but those times generally involved sharing a bed without cuddling, as Harry was uncertain about your comfort with such closeness. However tonight, after he'd seen you half naked with his face between your legs, your comfort level had clearly advanced beyond what it had been previously.

After both of you got into bed, you remained on your individual sides until you felt bold enough to initiate cuddling with your boyfriend. You realized that Harry was being cautious still, so you decided to move closer, laying your head on his chest and draping your left arm over his waist. "Is this alright?" you quietly asked in the dark room.

Harry quickly loosed his stiff body up and wrapped his arms around you, so he could hold you close. Whispering back, Harry replied, "Definitely alright. I love cuddles." Now that you know Harry loved cuddles, you'll have to give him cuddles more often.

Soon sleep found you both and the house became quiet. The only sounds that could be heard was your soft breathing and the rustling of trees outside. After tonight, you feel way more confident to go further with Harry. Matter of fact, you hope you can go further with him really soon. Just the thought of that brings excitement to you, and certain parts of your body.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 5 months ago

Text

It feels like hope.

Pairing: Hot Priest!Joel Miller x f!reader, no outbreak

Words count: 5700

Rating: Strictly +18, MINORS DON’T INTERACT

Warnings: pov second person, no use of y/n, priest kink, catholic guilt, religious kink, smut, unprotected p in v (use protections IRL!), reader has breasts and vagina and hair that can be pulled and wears a shirt and a skirt, apart from that no other description is given, age is not mentioned but they’re both grown up adults and reader is only inexperienced because she grew up in a very catholic family, fingering (f receiving), oral (m receiving), sex in a rectory, hair pulling, blasphemy all over the place 💀, pussy pronouns she/her, drinking, two hits on nipples, improper use of liturgical objects, cream pie, pet names (angel, baby), reader calls him "Father" during sex, mention of hell, mention of porn videos, mention of masturbation, improper use of prayers, God named in vain, another thing that I won’t spoil... listen, this thing is filthy, probably the filthiest more immoral thing I've ever wrote, ok? If you think you can't handle it just scroll down to another story.

This is a revised version of something I had already posted and then deleted because I personally didn't like it.

It took me months to come to an end with it, I don’t know why, I’ve changed a lot of things, I’ve changed the pov, I’ve changed dynamics etc… I really really hope you will enjoy it and please be gentle with me, I really tried hard even if you would think it’s no good.

English is not my first language and I have no beta so any mistake is all my fault, I’m sorry.

Title is a Fleabag quote, specifically from our beloved hot priest “when you find somebody that you love, it feels like hope”

Thanks to everyone who has shown interest in this story, thanks to those who were there from the beginning (you know who you are and I love you) and thanks to anyone who will read 🩷

(Just added a brief note at the end 😉)

Mood board credits: @probablyreadinsmut Thank you Sam so much for having spent time creating this beauty! 🥹

Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️

It all started on a Sunday.

You came to your neighborhood church expecting a nice function and you exited knowing you were doomed.

That Sunday you met the new parish priest.

From the first moment you felt like something in you was compromised.

You couldn't even explain it to yourself and you had never felt like this, it was something so unfamiliar.

A need you’ve never felt before.

Your eyes glued to his holy form, adoring his raven curly hair, his scruff, the curve of his neck, his strong nose, plump lips, broad shoulders, thick thighs, big hands.

Courteous and kind as he greeted parishioners leaving the church, he shook your hand and you felt a jolt.

You weren’t like this before, you did things to do good to others before. But now…

Volunteering for every event, clothing drive, bake sale, children's shows. You were always there for the ride. Making excuses to talk to him.

Wondering if he had any more freckles than the ones on his neck, how warm his skin would be, how manly and intoxicating his scent would be, what his kisses would taste like, what his fingers would have felt like inside your cunt, peeking at the outline of his cock under his black pants.

A perfect Christian girl who would have make your mother proud on the outside, a raging hell of arousal on the inside.

You couldn’t believe that he was him who had awakened this new person inside you, insanely hungry, wanting, needing to taste, lick, bite.

His low gruff voice grueling from his chest echoed against your damp inner walls so much that you were almost afraid to get up after the mass and see a stain where you were seated.

It was more and more difficult every time to fight your urge, stay on the tracks of life that you were taught to live, no sex before marriage, no masturbation because it’s a sin, no impure thoughts because you were a good girl.

Yet now you could hear them, all those voices crowding your head, pushing you towards something you had been taught was wrong.

Entering the church you were trembling, guilt pulsing in your gut.

Everything was quiet and serene, your eyes wandered on the frescoed walls, the organ, the large altar and the wooden benches neatly lined up in rows in the central nave, your steps sounded uncertain and timid on the marble floor.

You entered the confessional feeling your heart beating wildly in your chest, palms sweating and your mouth dry.

You could hear his breathing through the grate.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned”

The following silence weighed like never before.

“Open your heart to the Lord so He can forgive your sins”

And you had confessed.

The words slipped from your mouth like pearls from a broken necklace, finally rolling free between your lips revealing your every sordid thought.

The girl shaped by catholic parents to be a modest virgin, mother and maid, perfect smile and delicate manners was in reality a shameful bundle of filth.

You were a sinner.

A sinner eaten out from dirty thoughts.

You told him how you couldn't stop thinking about him, how you had questioned your feelings and who you were as a person, how you hadn't spent a night without touching yourself thinking about him in many months.

You told him about your desire to kiss him and more. So much more. Everything.

Every single time you lowered your hand in your panties, every single time you squeezed your breasts, driven by instinct and desire, every single time you thought of him as Joel. Just Joel, a man.

You just wanted to let go of the weight on your chest, coming clean. If you said it all out loud you would have realized how crazy it was.

You heard the door snapping, a few heavy steps close to where you were seated, the door opening to your side.

Suddenly he was there, standing in front of you.

He said nothing, only grabbed your arm, dragging you to the rectory.

Dust in the air danced beneath the soft light that came in from two small windows high up.

There wasn't much in the room, a cupboard where liturgical objects were kept, a table, a wardrobe where the clothes for the service were hung.

Nobody was there except the two of you, you could hear the rumble of his breathing and your heart drumming behind your rib cage.

He was staring at you.

Your mouth sealed, a lump in your stomach.

You thought about the day he tried to teach you how to play guitar.

You were here, together, helping with the Christmas party. He was sitting strumming when you walked in, you tried not to surprise him from behind by pretending to cough and he turned to you. He didn’t stop playing as he greeted you, you told him “I didn’t know you played” and he invited you to try. As you sat down your legs were shaking, he gave you the guitar and you just stared at it, fingers uncertain and mind empty.

“It’s not that hard” he told you and he leaned over you taking one of your hands in his and placing it on the neck of the guitar, moving your fingers over the strings “like this. Now play”

You strummed on the guitar and an unpleasant sound came out, you both laughed softly at your clumsiness and a flood of pleasure slicked your panties.

His breath on you was like a caress, you felt the minty scent grazing at your nostrils.

For a moment, just for a moment you thought, “I could turn around right now and kiss him. A few inches and my lips would be on his.”

Your desire flowed before your eyes, leaving you with nothing else to look at.

“But I can’t. I can’t.”

You've tried to swat away that sinful thought with another strum on the guitar but nothing disappeared, instead it burned in your core even strongly than before.

You thought about that day when the rain caught you on your way to set up the bake sale, how you walked into the rectory soaked from head to toe, how he looked at your shirt stuck to your skin that left little to the imagination, how you instinctively covered yourself when you just wanted to let your arms hang at your sides and let him look at you. You saw a reaction in his eyes as he mumbled that he was going to get you a towel, just a moment before he regained his composure, and it was enough. You knew that he was not indifferent to you. That night you touched yourself imagining what it would be like if he took your shirt off, if he placed his lips on your neck, his tongue on your breast, his cock inside you.

You started to navigate on porn sites daily, out of curiosity first and then because you needed to see, you needed to imagine, you needed to visualize something so unfamiliar and strange to you.

You were ashamed, but at the same time you couldn't help it, it was the only resource you could think of looking for and it was there, on your phone, private, no one would have known. You didn't even imagine you would find so many, a whole catalog of big dicks, huge tits, positions that your brain couldn't conceive.

Seeing those women pleasuring themselves scared you but at the same time attracted you, you wanted to be like them, you wanted to reach that pleasure, you wanted to try their way of using their hands, you wanted to refine your clumsy way of reaching that heat between your legs.

You sinked into it.

If your parents had known, if your community had known, you would have been branded an unworthy woman, a pervert, a slut.

But your parents were far away now, your whole life was somewhere else and you were proud to have freed yourself from the golden cage they had locked you in. You were an adult now, it was the moment to choose for yourself. If they hadn’t always denied you any other vision of the world, if they hadn’t forbidden you to have the experiences that everyone has in their youth, maybe it wouldn’t have happened this way.

His mouth was a thin line, tensed, you looked into his eyes and you saw nothing than dark.

So much different from the gentle detachment he had always shown to everyone, his look was a mixture of concern, agitation, maybe a hint of fear, but most of all - to your great surprise - sexual arousal.

You could see him cracking behind those eyes, you could feel his mind filling with all sorts of questions.

His voice was barely a whisper but sharp as a blade when he finally spoke “Are you even honest with that ‘I am a good christian’ thing? Say the truth”

You hesitated, the uneasiest bitter taste in your mouth.

“I-” your throat felt like atrophied “yes” you tried to say.

“No, you’re not. The least you could do is being fucking honest with Him” he raised his finger pointing it at the ceiling.

You’ve never heard him cursing before.

You looked down feeling the weight of your stomach turn to lead and then concrete and if you thought you were free now you felt even more guilty.

You said the only thing your brain could think of at that moment and you knew what you were asking for, you knew what it would do to him and you knew that in this way you would drag him down with you. And yet you did it anyway, because desire was stronger than anything, than faith, than lies, than truth.

“I need-I need to repent. Teach me” you pleaded “teach me how to be good”

Something lit up in his gaze, like a spark of hell, a glow of lust.

He turned around and you hungrily followed his every move.

His hands moving expertly, the cupboard opening, him taking out the mass wine and pouring it into a chalice.

You saw him down the entire glass, without hesitation, without a shred of tremor.

You felt like you were watching a hurricane approaching, just waiting for the wind to suck you in without being able to do anything else.

You wanted it. You wanted it to sweep you away, to make you someone else, braver, indomitable, someone who wasn’t afraid to say what she wanted because of a belief that had been instilled in her, someone who was simply herself.

We are all born with guilt, you told yourself. I am tired, tired of dealing with mine so much.

You just wanted to feel alive, to feel something authentic and fierce, no half measures.

You wanted to be desired in a way that felt relentless and desperate, like air that is necessary to keep humans alive, something unique and undeniable.

Could Joel read it in your eyes? He was so good at reading people, you could tell it right away.

He had guessed a lot about you, he had noticed how coffee was a weakness of yours - and his - and he offered you a cup first thing in every meeting.

He had noticed how nervous Danny, a parishioner who liked to play the fool with any woman present, most often in front of his wife, got you and made sure to never leave you alone with him.

He had noticed how much you enjoyed sewing and had assigned you the costumes for the play and praised your work.

And he did the same with the guitar that day when he saw how enthusiast and curious you were about it. He didn't say it openly, but his gestures spoke for him.

He came closer to you again, bending the chalice to your mouth and said “drink”. Sharp, cold, an order.

At that point you didn’t care it was something you were not supposed to do, forbidden, maybe unholy even, you just drank.

You were dealing with a part of yourself that always existed but you had put that in a box.

Joel looked into your eyes sternly and said: “Show me the good Christian that you think you are. Pray.”

“What?”

“Pray. Right now”

“What prayer?” You asked, confused.

“You're not starting off well, you should know that.” He smirked, caught you in fail.

“Act of contrition” you whispered and he nodded “yes. That’s right.”

He was just inches away from you, his crucifix hanging between your bodies, grazing at your stomach.

You began to recite in a low voice, stumbling over your words, your brain couldn’t think straight:

“O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest… all my sins because of thy just punishments, but most of all because they offended Thee, my God, who art all good and deserving all my love.”

You said it dozen of times before and yet it seemed totally different in that moment.

Joel took off his rosary, letting it dangle from his hand and swing across your chest. Beads brushed against the cotton bra you wore under your blouse, making your nipples harden, you could feel them pushing against the fabric.

“Go on”

“I- I firmly resolve with the help of Thy grace to sin no more and to avoid the near occasion of sin. Amen”

“Take off your shirt,” he told you in a whisper.

Something shifted inside him “and your bra”

His voice was no longer the same, it came from deep within him, frighteningly authoritarian but to you it seemed like a magic instrument that was hypnotizing you.

You did what he told you.

You were half naked in front of a man for the first time. It could have happened before, much before, but of course you couldn’t because you never got married. No one was supposed to see your body except the man you were going to take to the altar. That’s what they taught you.

Joel looked at you, entranced, almost in disbelief. You wondered how long it had been since he’d seen someone else’s naked body, what effect it had on him.

You were more alike than you seemed, both of you denied something because of religion.

You were both more needy and frustrated than you were allowed to admit. Tension hung in the air like a fog that clouded both of your gazes.

Every time you had talked to him you had noticed the way he looked at you but you thought it was all in your head, like you were a poor naive girl who was building castles in the air, but now you knew that wasn't the case.

It was another thing you shouldn’t have done but you prayed deep down that he wouldn’t decide to stop.

He raised his arm, clutching his rosary. You felt a slash through the air and then a sharp smack on your nipple.

You looked down shocked as the pain quickly turned into a dull pleasure rising from the pit of your tummy, to fade more and more, becoming a tingling sensation.

You liked it.

You wanted more.

He did the same at your other breast and all the breath you had left in your body had slipped past your lips in a lustful sob.

He took one of your nipples between his fingers, twisting and pinching it and you couldn’t help but moan. A sound you never made for no one and you made it first for a priest.

His body pushed you against the wall, his breath on your neck, his fingers didn't stop torturing your nipple. Everything you saw was red. Red like the passion you had never felt before, red like the blood that pulsed in your veins, red like sin.

“Kneel” he said firmly.

You were equal parts scared of making a fool of yourself and eager to try.

You knelt down, feeling the cold of the floor touch your shins.

His eyes were as uncertain as yours, it was new territory for both of you but you saw a flame burning in him and you felt it inside you.

His face was serious, tense, as if he was ashamed of what he was doing but couldn't contain.

He was punishing you and punishing himself at the same time.

You weren’t afraid though, you were ready to face what was eating you up and you trusted Joel for some reason. You could see in him that he wouldn’t hurt you. At least not more than you wanted.

Your tentative fingers undid his pants, letting them sag around his ankles. A pronounced erection protruded from his boxers as his eyes almost begged you, they weren’t cruel and ruthless eyes, but rather needy and guilty.

You moved your hand closer to his crotch, hesitating for a moment before placing it there, testing the sensation, opening your fingers around it to realize how thick it was. You could feel the heat through the fabric. You caressed it, feeling the tremor that shook Joel's body. Your eyes couldn't tear themselves away, it was the first time you had seen one in person, you were amazed and attracted. You continued to caress him until you heard a grunt leave Joel’s lips and a stain wet the front of his boxers. You were struck by how much he was growing under your hand and the smell, like musk, pungent but not unpleasant.

You remembered the videos you had seen, how women did it, looking into the men's eyes lustfully, with a confidence and naturalness you had never acquired. You wanted to be like them, but you were afraid of being ridiculous or grotesque.

You slowly pulled down his boxers, gasping at the sight of his cock springing free.

Joel had his eyes fixed on you, they were encouraging somehow, he made you feel safe but the trembling of your fingers did not stop. You took his shaft in your hand again and were surprised at how soft his skin was there, velvety. You watched that thin layer of skin retract as you moved your hand up and down like you had seen in the videos, it felt incredible. It was heavy, hot and throbbing. It was uncut. His big balls hanging right under. You ran your thumb over the tip, collecting the pre-cum that was leaking, spreading it around.

Joel was quiet, he let you do it.

He was touch starving, just like you.

You lowered your head and licked him, just with the tip of your tongue. A timid lick, like a kitten.

His taste, matching the musky scent you could smell, invaded your mouth in an instant. You had never tasted anything like it. You braced yourself, while Joel waited, and licked once more, this time starting at the base and working your way up.

Joel groaned.

You pulled away, looking into his eyes, he brought a hand to your cheek and then to your chin and took it in his palm.

“You are so beautiful” he whispered.

And you felt beautiful, you felt like someone was really seeing you for the first time. And you loved that that someone was him.

You took a deep breath and lowered your head onto his cock, you knew you couldn't fit it all in your mouth, but you wanted to take as much as you could.

“Don’t force yourself” Joel murmured as your lips touched his skin, causing another whine.

“I want to do it” you replied resolutely, you were loving hearing him whimper beneath you.

His length slid across your tongue, wet and salty, your lips closing around it.

You closed your eyes and focused on that feeling, just holding it there, nestled inside.

“Suck it,” Joel commanded gently, bringing a hand into your hair and twining his fingers there.

You were unsure how to do it, you tried to suck it in as if you were using a large straw, with all the breath you had.

Joel flinched, almost losing his balance “Easy, baby” he muttered

You pulled away again, eyes widened “oh my god, I’m sorry” almost afraid of having hurt him but he immediately reassured you "no it's okay, just... go slower, go slower if you don't want me to come right away”

“Uh- okay” responding timidly to the smile that was spreading across his face.

You began to suck again more calmly, holding the base tightly with your hand, feeling it pulsate between your fingers and on your tongue.

It was an addictive sensation, spreading through your synapses like a drug.

Obviously you had never tried any drugs, but you imagined that the sensation might be similar to something like that.

Joel still held your head, his grip tightening as you continued, you could feel his body tense and respond, and you liked it. You liked it more than you ever liked putting on your Sunday best and going to say prayers with your parents like you always had.

There was actually a prayer that was ringing in your head and it was Joel's, who softly repeated "just like that, you're being so good to me”

It was exhilarating.

You felt like you had a true gift, for once in your life.

An obscene gift, but still.

You had the courage to run from your mom and dad and then at what felt like a minute later you found yourself there, naked from waist up, on your knees, sucking a priest cock.

You’ve never felt more alive.

Deep down you were exactly that person there, not a whore like everyone you knew would say. Just a woman, a woman who wanted what other women wanted. Sex, pleasure, being important to someone or just not being condemned to do what others wanted for you.

You continued to suck as Joel's breathing became heavier and more labored.

At that point he was just uttering disconnected phrases like “oh my God” and “Yes, go on”, his voice hoarse and scratchy.

Suddenly he started shaking violently, almost falling, as something warm and sticky hit your throat. You knew what it was and you were eager to swallow, as you had seen done in so many videos.

A little of it slipped from your lips, down your chin, onto your neck.

Joel's hand was still in your hair, it almost hurt but it was a delicious pain that you were enduring, a small punishment for the rush of adrenaline and excitement that was coursing through you.

You kept holding his cock in your mouth until you felt it relax.

“Get up,” Joel said gently, still out of breath, as he was fixing his boxers and pants.

Your knees almost gave out, you leaned against the wall feeling wetness on your panties.

Joel came closer to you, placing a hand on your cheek, pulling you into a deep kiss that left you stunned for a second and then you were more than happy to reciprocate. His tongue in your mouth explored feverishly, you wondered if he could taste himself from your lips.

He pulled out saying “I’ve never done anything like this before” and you replied “me neither.”

And then he was on your lips again, nibbling at your lower one, placing his hand on your thigh, raising it under your skirt, up to your drenched panties, grazing them with his fingers.

You squirmed, moaning a “yes, please” from down your throat, a tingle spreading on your outer lips, in your tummy, up to your chest.

He put his hand inside your panties, brushing your skin.

“What should I do with you?” He asked, in an almost desperate tone, as if he knew he couldn't stop and was asking permission not to.

“Make me come” you pleaded “Please.”

He sighed, pulling your panties aside and sliding his index and middle fingers between your folds, gathering your wetness up to your clit, starting circling it as you writhed.

It was different than when you did it yourself, his fingers bigger and stronger, his touch a little clumsy but still effective and intoxicating.

His mouth landed on your neck, stifling a moan, sucking a hickey where it joined your shoulders, nibbling hungrily at your skin.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“Just…me”

He smirked “have you ever put your fingers inside you?”

“I- yes.” there were no point on beating around the bush, you told him that you touched yourself thinking about him. You were already deep down into that dizzy.

“Put your fingers in me” you added immediately “I want to feel them, please Joel, I want to know what they can do to me”

“You sure?”

“Yes, yes.” You breathed.

He prodded at your entrance, just a little bit, making you whine just with his fingers tip.

The rosary lay abandoned on the floor, you could see it out of the corner of your eye and you didn't care about that eyewitness symbol of what was happening between you two.

You would have liked him to put it around your neck while he fucked you, fully participating in that sinful act.

You were surprised yourself at what you were thinking but somehow it made you even more eager.

You felt two of his fingers sink inside you, filling that void that you had never been able to fill enough on your own, stretching you.

It hurts a little at first because they were bigger than yours, but then it was more heavenly than anything else. If you were made for anything, it was to be there in that moment.

Joel looked ecstatic “God, she’s so… wet” he whispered “and warm” His face was the representation of pleasure, lips slightly parted, his eyes wide, his pupils dilated, his heavy breathing blowing on your neck.

He began to move his fingers inside you rhythmically, each thrust making you shake and sob, a litany of “yes” coming out strangled from your mouth.

He went slowly, taking his time, as if he was savoring every second of your pussy tightening around his fingers.

He placed his other hand on your breast again, cupping and squeezing and then twisting your nipple. Big hand full of your tit.

It was beautiful. You didn’t know how or why people could deny themselves that, but you certainly wouldn’t do it again, not after having Joel inside you. He curled his fingers, looking for the right way to make you feel the pleasure you wanted, the one you kept asking for.

“You like that, baby?” He asked with an hopeful tone

“It feels so good, so good” you told him, clinging to his neck, digging your nails into his soft skin as you felt like you were losing your mind. You didn't care about losing it, your mind had ruled your life for so, so long.

“Please don’t stop” you murmured, tightening your other hand on his wrist, guiding him “don't stop”

You felt your essence slowly leaking out of you, spreading over Joel's fingers and your outer lips, you had never been so soaked, never so much as under Joel's touch.

Your eyes suddenly fixed on that little piece of white cloth that was around his neck, that little piece that made all the difference in the world and made what you were doing terribly wrong in the eyes of others and God and Joel kissed you again like a man deprived and starved, his lips trembling and dramatic, asking silently for more and more, like they were drinking from yours.

He was all over you, like a sailor through a violent storm, he clung to whatever he could, as if it were a matter of life and death.

Tasting him like this, the smell of his skin, his warmth, his clerical clothes rubbing against your half-naked body, made your head spin.

You moved your hand onto his collar, grasping it with your fingers, pulling it, until it came undone, you squeezed it as you came copiously, repeating Joel's name and God's, cutting off your moans, abandoning your head on Joel's shoulder.

It was all too much and yet not enough, you wished it would never end. Joel held you tight, one hand moving behind your back, as his fingers continued to sink into you. The blinding pleasure that had invaded every fiber of your body was raging like hell’s flames inside you, like a sinful but also purifying fire, wrong and right, heavenly and hellish.

And then it slowly faded, giving way to a sense of satisfaction that had never belonged to you.

You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, hard and demanding again.

Joel grunted, pulling his fingers out of you, taking them to his lips, gathering your juices with his tongue.

“I want… I want your cock, Father” you whispered, at that point you felt greedy, delirious, drunk on sex.

His eyes widened, being called “Father” was making him even more aroused and dizzy.

You grabbed his balls from above his pants, holding your hand tightly on them “please, Joel”.

If you were going to Hell for this, you might as well go all the way.

Joel pushed you against the table on the other side of the room, making you sit on it, unzipped his pants again, pulling out his cock without hesitation, as if he had finally accepted his fate.

His fingers were big but his cock… you wondered how it would all fit inside you.

“I’ll go slowly” Joel reassured you “It will fit” he said, brushing your folds with the tip, aligning his cock with your entrance, as if he had guessed your thoughts. His eyes were blacker than ever as he prodded his shaft past through your lips.

It felt overwhelming, so big and pulsing, it hurt but you almost immediately felt a fullness that you had never felt and a sense of belonging, your pussy opened like a bud, widening and molding for him.

If you were made for anything, it was to be there in that moment.

“She’s tight, so damn tight” Joel gawked “fuck”

You whimpered, looking at his face, so serious, pleasure written all over it and you felt like it was right, it had to be right if it was that good.

“Make me yours, Father, make me good” you pleaded.

Joel growled as he slid in and out of you, slamming against your walls, your pussy making obscene squelching sounds every time he moved, dripping all over his cock and the table.

It didn’t even seem embarrassing to you to be so inexperienced, you both were. You didn’t know if Joel had had sex before but you guessed he hadn’t had it in a long time anyway.

You didn't know if it was the way it was supposed to be but you felt like it was natural, not like in the videos you'd seen which were probably mostly choreographed to please the eye.

It was sex. Pure and simple. Urgent, hungry, even uncontrolled.

And the way your body reacted, melting like wax under Joel's hands, arching into his touch, bending to his will, and seeking all the friction you could get, told you that this was the right way for you.

“See?” Joel mumbled “You’re taking me so well, baby, a perfect angel for me”

You twisted your legs behind his back, pushing him against you as much as you could, kissing the exposed skin on his neck. It drove you crazy that he was still dressed, you wanted to rip off his shirt and run your hands down on him, feel his warm skin on yours so you did it. You placed your hands on both sides and you just popped every button, revealing his broad chest, feeding your eyes with every single detail and your fingers with every shape and curve.

“Never had a cock inside before but that pussy is made for mine, I swear to God she is” he started desperately rutting into you, deeper strokes every time, taking God’s name in vain, murmuring some prayers while he pounded into you. You could feel his big vein brushing at your walls, his big mushroom hammering your cervix, the most intense rapture you’ve ever felt.

He pulled at your hair, forcing you to look him in the eye, murmuring “that’s what you wanted, huh? Dragging me to hell with you?”

Your eyes filled with tears at the thought. It was true, somehow you corrupted him, but you were willing to face that just to feel something so strong. You weren’t sure about him though.

But again, he was there, right there with you, with his cock inside your cunt and you didn’t force any of it, he could say no, he could stop, but he choose the sin. Now blaming you wasn’t so saintly nor kind, but you understood why he did that. He needed to blame someone other than himself, and you were there, open arm taking the weight for him.

Your ass slid back and forth on the wood of the table with each thrust, one of his hands was on your nipple again while the other held you behind your back. He then moved to your clit, applying pressure on it, circling it with two fingers.

You looked down only to see his cock sinking between your lips, his balls bouncing and the bush of hair that adorned his groin glistening with your juices.

You could smell the sex in the air, your mingling scents becoming one, your pleasure merging and becoming one as he shot huge spurts of cum into you.

He muttered a prayer, asking God for forgiveness, his voice exhausted, hoarse, broken by orgasm.

And then you woke up.

Your room was quiet, the crucifix that your mom gave you hanging on the wall behind your bed.

It took a few seconds for your sleepy, blurry gaze to settle on it, you were sweaty and shocked.

You closed your eyes, shutting them and cursing under your breath.

You unrolled your body from the sheets and then stood up and picked up the crucifix. Your days as a good, God-fearing girl were over.

A/n: if you don't know what is dream and what is reality in the story at this point, that's what I wanted, I hope it's not too confusing but I wanted to try something new. I hope you liked it and thanks for your time 🩷

#hot priest!joel miller #hot priest!joel #priest!joel miller #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel x you #joel miller x you #joel tlou smut #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #one shot #the last of us hbo #joel miller au

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flrlgreen · 1 year ago

Text

mine (suguru getou x reader) + twt prn link

a/n: little getou drabble. i’ve had a bit of writer's block so i haven’t been as active but, i wanted to write something with getou and this is loosely based/connected to this fic i wrote on ao3 (that i’ll probably update soon).

cw: EXTREME possessiveness, toxic behavior, unprotected sex, reader has a vagina, breeding, mentioned pregnancy, begging, teasing, crying, dirty talk, the name bad girl is used.

link

Apparently, you two didn’t know what ‘no contact’ meant. The same man that you had just told to leave you alone is in your room fucking his thick cock into you. Why? You went on a date with the lead singer of another popular band, Toji Fushiguro. And even worse he overheard your conversation with your girlfriends about how good of a lay Toji was.

Tears begin to prick your eyes before a single fat tear falls down your cheek. “You’re dripping so much Angel, was he fucking you this good?” He groaned in pleasure while his heavy balls hit your ass over and over. “Does he fuck your cute little pussy as good as I do? You’re creaming all over my dick, so I’m doing something right aren’t I?” His words were making you clench on his cock even more than you already were. “Answer me.” He demands when you whine instead of answering his question. His free hand presses down on your lower belly making your eyes tear up even more.

“Y-you fuck me so good Suguru.” That’s all you managed to get out, but your response didn’t satisfy him. “Bad girl, fucking someone else. You still belong to me, I don’t care if we are broken up.” He punctuates the end of each of his statements with a deep thrust. “Say you belong to me Baby.” He leans in and whispers in your ear. “Say this is my pussy.” He knows his words are getting to you because you could only manage to let out moans and high-pitched whines no matter how hard you tried to get any words out.

“This is your-” You say a little too quietly for his taste. “Ah, I can’t hear you.” He teases. “This is your p-” “Louder Baby. Let them know who this pussy belongs to.” He wipes the single tear from your cheek and gives you that stupid ‘poor you’ tone that drives you mad. “This is your pussy Suguru! My pussy belongs to you!” You yell loud enough and you’re almost sure everyone in the apartment complex heard you.

“That’s what I wanna hear. You don’t belong to that asshole and if you fuck him ever again I’ll have to show you who you truly belong to.” His thrusts are so fast you can’t even keep up. His thick cock dragged against your sensitive walls and was almost enough to make you cum all over his cock. “I want you to remember how good I fuck your little pussy whenever you even think about fucking anyone that isn’t me.” He pants and pulls out and shoves his entire cock back in all at once.

“I’m gonna make you mine, so you can never leave me. You’re gonna have my baby.” He slammed his pelvis into you until your walls were forcibly stretched to accommodate his thick cock. “Gonna cum – Fuck, you’re gonna be so full of my cum. Gonna be so cute pregnant-” Before he could even finish his sentence he was spilling his warm seed in your cunt. “Fuck.” He groans and watches his cum spill from your hole when he pulls out. His body feels so heavy and he can’t help but bury his head in the crook of your neck, but not before giving you a peck on your cheek. “I still love you so much.”

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yunyunrin · 8 months ago

Text

Pool Play(date) — Yunho

genre : smut

warnings : sex in public, no prep, sex in a pool (wouldnt advise doing this), unprotected sex (pls dont do this), soft dom(?) yunho, reader has a vagina and breasts but there are no pronouns used towards reader, jongho makes an appearance

wc : right under 2.1k

a/n : this is the first smut i’ve written in years!! so it may not be the best but it was proofread by a close friend <3 so if you have any suggestions dont be afraid to give them i just ask you be nice! also, im working on holy fool i’ve just been so so busy but it is in the process of being written and chapter 1 should be out this week!

a/n 2 : this idea came from yunho’s story… thoughts were thought and i had to write them out LOL!!!! user yunou._.u u will be dealt with …

The sun’s rays beat heavily on your skin as you lay down on the chair by the pool. Although you put a lot of sunscreen on before you came on and even reapplied a couple of times since coming outside, you can still feel the twinge of red that the sun decided to lay upon your cheeks.

Your sunglasses mask the sun, and before you know it, you’re drifting off to sleep. You were enjoying your nap until you felt a splash of water hit you. This caused you to look up to find the cause of the disturbance of your nap.

It doesn’t take you long to find Yunho propping himself up on the edge of the pool looking at you with a mischievous grin. “Yunho, that wasn’t funny. I was taking a nap,” You fake an annoyed tone with him, but ultimately, your face fails you when you smile. You quickly turn away, but it is too late for Yunho already saw you smile.

Yunho gets out of the pool and comes to you and sits on the pool chair next to you. “I’m sorry that I annoyed my pretty baby,” Yunho says as he puts his hand in front of your eyes as you’ve taken off your sunglasses by this point since the splash of water got on them earlier.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t interrupt the love of your life when they’re taking a nap,” You tell him, looking away from him to keep your ruse up a bit longer.

“Perhaps I should make it up to the love of my life then?” Yunho quips as his other hand begins to trail up your leg, goosebumps appearing once his hand moves from one spot to another.

“Yunho, not here.” You tell him while holding back a whine. You cover your face with your hands, your reaction to his light touch of your leg at the pool embarrassing you.

“Why not? Don’t you want something besides the sun to warm you up?” Yunho asks you innocently, but when you look at him a smirk is plastered across his face. His hand has moved to your hips, massaging the area around your waistband.

You blush at the comment, knowing that if the sun didn’t cause your face to be red then it definitely is red now. “Yunho, I would love for you to warm me up. But someone could walk in at any time.” You say nervously, looking around at the entrances that are near the pool.

“Baby, no one has been here all day. I promise no one will show up, but we don’t have to do anything. Plus, I can do a lot more in the comfort of our hotel room anyway.” Yunho says, and you know he means it.

But the thought intrigues you, if you’re being honest. Having to be quick so no one sees, Yunho having to cover you in case someone comes in. That thought alone is enough to make you squeeze your legs together, always loving that Yunho was so much taller and muscular than you that he could hide you with ease.

Your reactions to the thoughts wandering around in your head don’t go unnoticed by Yunho. The sexual tension so thick that you think that if anyone did happen to walk in, they would walk right out anyway. “So what do you say?” Yunho asks, breaking the silence that you and him had been sitting in.

“Yes, but on one condition.” You say, watching his face go from looking surprised (likely because he never expected you to say yes) and lust.

“What is your condition my love?” He asks you, his breathing starting to get a bit heavier than normal. You can see his boner pushing at his shorts, and you decide to tease him a little before answering. By this point, Yunho’s pool chair is right next to yours. You take advantage of the closeness, turning around to face him. You interlock your fingers with him and move your upper knee to slowly graze against his bulge, earning a grunt from the male.

“My condition is that we do it in the pool, you can’t kiss me, and you can’t take my bottoms off,” You accentuate the last word of your sentence with a pop. Yunho hates not being able to kiss you during sex and typically he hates the barrier that your bathing suit bottoms gives you.

“Can I kiss you underwater?” He asks you, and you nod, partially because you wanted to know what he’d do and how he’d figure something like that out. Next thing you know, you’re being picked up, and you’re in the water. Yunho took the liberty to jump in the deep side with you. You’re glad he knows how to swim because you don’t. Even if you did know how to swim, you think you’d fail yourself at this moment.

You and Yunho are under the water, he’s holding your waist close to him, and he is connecting your lips under the water. Before too long, you and him are back to the surface.

“Put your arms around my neck.” Yunho instructs you, his voice lowers a few more octaves than his normal voice. You wrap your arms around his neck, you look around and see that you’re both in the middle of the pool. “I was the one who was supposed to pay attention to the surroundings, no?” Yunho quips, as he grips your thigh and anchors your left leg around his waist.

Yunho has pushed you both to the very end of the pull, your back is touching the cool concrete of the edge. Your body tenses up with nervousness and excitement. This whole experience of the pool is new to you, but your insecurities are starting to hit you all at once.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to let anyone see you. Relax with me, please?” Yunho says to you, beginning to massage your hips again. Your hips were always really sensitive to you, Yunho often using it to his advantage in a multitude of situations. Luckily in this one, it had you calming down and squeezing your hips against Yunho’s waist as much as you could.

One of Yunho’s hands is holding on to the concrete to keep you afloat at the top, the other now rubbing against your clothed core. You put your face into Yunho’s neck, muffling the moan that escaped you at the initial touch of his hand.

His hand starts to move agonizingly slow causing you to move your head towards him. “Look at me while I touch you,” Yunho says to you before you can ask. His pointer finger hooks in the center of your bathing suit bottoms causing your breath to hitch.

His hand starts massaging your clit, using his abdomen to press into your lower stomach. “Yunho, stop” you say to him and he stops instantly. Worry fills his face as he looks at you trying to figure out what’s going on, looking around the outside of the pool, mentally cursing himself thinking that he had somehow missed someone walking in.

You pull his head back to look at you, wanting to ease his insecurities. “You did nothing wrong Yunho, I just need you inside me, now.” You practically beg him, the ache in between your legs growing.

“Baby, I haven’t even prepped you yet.” Yunho tries to reason with you, knowing that it is already a tight fit even when he has prepped you.

“Yunho I don’t care. I can take it. If you are not inside me within the minute I swear I will ban you from playing Valorant for a week after we get home from vacation, and if I catch you playing I will not suck your dick for a month.” You tell him, but before you can blink he has you turned around, with your back now touching his chest and your hands holding on to the concrete edge around you.

He pushes his swimming trunks down just enough to let his cock spring free. He quickly pulls your bottoms to the side, the opening only big enough for him to put his cock inside you. He begins to push inside you, paying attention to the signs you give him.

Although you told him that you could take it, he still worries. You clench around his cock, a moan falling from his mouth. He slowly pushes the rest of his cock inside you until he bottoms out.

You and him stay like this for a little, enjoying the feeling of being full. “Thank you for giving me the courage to do this with you, Yunho,” you tell him while interlocking one of his hands with your’s. His free hand massages your breast, you bite your lip to muffle a moan. The stimulation he was giving you wasn’t any more than usual; the combination of the cold water against your body and with the thrill of being in an entirely new place is ticking you in ways you haven’t been ticked before.

You hadn’t realized that you had zoned out until Yunho pinches your nipple, causing you to yelp, now completely coming out of the trance you had been in before. You could tell Yunho was getting a bit antsy, you could feel his cock throbbing inside you, aching for more stimulation. Deciding to clench around him and grind on his cock to tease him.

He gives a quick kiss to your neck before slowly pulling himself out of you a little just to push himself back in. “Please go faster,” you whimper out. Yunho’s pace quickens, the water beginning to splash you both. You try to muffle your moans, but they end up just coming out as whimpers. Yunho’s cock has always been able to reach depths that you couldn’t get to by yourself, the fullness always there no matter how many times you and him have sex. You can feel the tingly feeling rising in your stomach as Yunho’s thrust gets a bit sloppier, signaling that he is also close.

“Such a pretty baby, so cock drunk that you’re willing to take it in the pool where someone walk in and see you. Is that what you want, people to come in and see you full of my cock?” Yunho whispers into your ear.

“Baby, I’m going to cum soon,” Yunho says, almost whining now that he is close to his release.

“I’m not there yet, almost,” you tell Yunho. He quickly moves his hand to your clit, massaging it at a quick and steady pace. The chillness from the water and the heat from your arousal are quickly aiding you to your orgasm as Yunho works you up with your fingers. Your impending orgasm having arrived quickly.

“I’m so close Yunho so close,” you are practically begging him for release now. Yunho bites your shoulder and pulls himself almost fully out of you, which causes you to whine at the lost contact, but then he thrust fully back into you deeply and quickly, which tips you over the edge. Yunho has also cum, his hand gripping your thigh as he catches his breath into your shoulder. You and him sit against the edge of the pool for a couple of minutes, regaining your previously lost composure.

Yunho pulls back from you to pull his swimming trunks up and you rearrange your bottoms as well. “I think that was some of the best sex we’ve had in a while,” you say to Yunho, to which he nods in agreement, still catching his breath.

The entrance to the pool opens and Jongho walks through the door. “How does the water feel?” Jongho asks the both of you. You and Yunho look at each other, giggling.

“Water feels great Jjong,” Yunho replies before giving you a peck on the lips.

Jongho side eyes you and the taller man, causing you and him to both bust out laughing. “You all are n a s t y” Jongho says, making sure to spell out the last word to enunciate his disgust at the public display of affection.

“Be glad you walked in now and not ten minutes ago” Yunho yells to Jongho, which earns him a kick to the knee. “Ow!” Yunho looks at you for a bit before laughing at you and Jongho’s reaction to his previous comment.

“I’m leaving,” Jongho exclaims before dramatically leaving the pool area. Leaving you and Yunho alone once again.

#ateez smut #yunho smut #ateez fanfic #yunho x reader #jeong yunho smut #jeong yunho fanfic #ateez x reader #yunho fanfic

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eideticmemory · 6 months ago

Note

blurb about kinky spencer what do you feel about that like early seasons to late seasons what his into it ☝🏻💥

ik everyone has their ideas about spencer reid’s sexuality between ages ~18-24 and cm rly never says much about it BUT i’ve always imagined that during college/grad school and the early seasons spencer was actually very sexually confident. i don’t mean that as in he could see someone across the room and cruise them and take them home but i think he knew what he liked. he is beautiful, that’s obvious so i imagine that when he got onto a college campus and started getting validation from all these pretty girls and pretty guys that he was like “wait…..i actually kinda have sex appeal?” and that was good bc even tho he was super insecure and younger than his classmates he was still as horny as everyone else!!! im a bi spencer truther and i think his first sexual experience was with a man and i think he felt anxious about sex with women for a while. his first time she probably had to throw herself at him but his brain was just like ???? ok??? i think shes having a good time?? but?? she cant get a boner so i cant quite tell?? this is getting long i’m sorry 😭

but i think anatomy helped him a lot. it was something he could contextualize and i can see him looking up vagina diagrams or even watching porn to figure out What To Do. and as he becomes more sexually active he becomes very good at reading body language. fucking someone and thinking “ok their legs are shaking, thats good, thats a good sign. oh they’re breathing’s faster, better keep this up” but what he liked the most was just being spoken to. he liked verbal validation during sex very much, someone who would grab his hands and put them where they wanted bc he could figure out the rest from there. once he gets out of his head a little bit is when he starts becoming vocal himself. i imagine he got a lot of questions during sex like “ru ok? ru enjoying it?” bc he would just lay there and whimper quietly bc he was overthinking everything. then one time its so good that he forgets to think and he’s moaning like a whore and it finally clicks for him “oh wow it feels even better to just let it out. oh wow they like it when i let it out” i think his kink was just pleasing someone, being good and feeling good, being able to tell himself that he did good.

in the early seasons i think he enjoyed sex and the idea of being that close to someone. i think he was touch starved and craved intimacy and he seeks it less as the show goes on. his experiences at the bau (especially the anthrax case) encouraged his germaphobia and yeah he would still get horny but he struggled to find anyone whose touch didn’t gross him out. i think that was a struggle for him for a long time. then especially after maeve he was constantly chasing the touch of a woman he had never even seen or gotten to hug. it was weird to think about while grieving her but his mind and heart craved her so much through their relationship so his body did too. he thought one day he would let someone touch him. someone he loved! and then she died in front of him so that was shot to shit. he grieved sex he would never have. i would describe his kink here as “someone i love so much i’d die for it. they could have anthrax on their tongue and i’d kiss them just because its them.”

in the later seasons after cat adams and the prison arc, i think he loses a lot of his inhibitions. basically a revelation of “i don’t have the energy to ponder on what i like and who i like” bc he feels it instantly. the moment he makes eye contact with someone, he can feel it in his tummy that he would have sex with them if they wanted. and when he feels it he flirts with humor. there’s nothing he loves more than when he banters with someone cute, making them laugh and catching a sparkle in their eye. like if they can understand each other’s minds then surely they might understand each other’s bodies. in bed he’s superrr vocal but not necessarily dirty more like “do u wanna be on top? yes i want that to” “can i take your shirt off? thank you” and putting a titty in his mouth. “can i bend your legs back a little more? i just wanna get a little deeper. tell me if its uncomfortable though” a lot of “yeah yeah yeah” when he’s drowning in it and then looking down and saying “yeah? yeah? yeah?” bc at the end of the day he stills needs to know he’s doing good

#idk why this got so long 😭#sr blurbs #iknwreid #answered

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roboticonography · 1 year ago

Note

it's getting really upsetting to see certain corners of the fandom demonize peggy. do you have any thoughts on the matter?

Oh, if only this were a new thing, anon!

I’ve been in the MCU fandom since before there was an MCU to speak of. Shitting on women characters and the actors who play them has been going on forever. People posted about how they hated Pepper Potts, saying she wasn’t a good partner to Tony because she didn’t constantly enable his erratic behaviour, or sacrifice her safety to accommodate his trauma. They posted about how Pepper should have died in Iron Man 2, for the good of Tony’s story, and when Iron Man 3 came out, they said the same thing. It was fucking exhausting.

People also posted about how they hated Natasha Romanoff, how they hated Jane Foster, how they hated Wanda Maximoff, how they hated Sharon Carter.

And yes, there were Peggy-haters then too. They called her a “karate-kicking fucktoy” and a “vengeful feminazi” and those are the most polite terms I can recall. They complained that she was too powerful, they complained that she was too feminine, they complained that she was pointless without Steve, they complained that she talked about Steve too much. And so on, and so forth, ad infinitum.

Now, to be clear, I am not talking about some of the very valid criticisms people had about the Agent Carter series - its writing, its casting, etc. I am also not talking about the very valid criticisms people have about the larger MCU related to representation, or lack thereof, across multiple fronts. I believe it’s possible to enjoy a piece of media and still have issues with some (or even many) aspects of it, and I enjoy reading posts that grapple with those issues. I’m not even talking about venting about a popular character you can’t stand: that has its place, though I’d argue that the place is probably not in the tag for that character. (I guarantee you, your “unpopular opinion” is never as unpopular as you think.)

I’m talking about misogyny. The same tired, rehashed, played out bullshit woman-hating that has existed in fandoms, so many fandoms, for at least the 25+ years that I’ve been active in them.

And that’s still what’s happening.

Many of the posts I’ve seen that fall under this category are expressing anger that one character or relationship or storyline or interpretation of canon is getting airtime, while another one, one they like better, is not. I’m not going to argue with anyone about that. You like what you like, and you're entitled to be annoyed if you don't get it. But if your argument is sound, you should be able to make your point effectively without calling the character the grossest euphemism for vagina you can find, or speculating on the exact sex acts an actor had to do to keep her character popular.

Other posts I’ve seen are just absolute buckwild conspiracy theory nonsense. The only thing I have to say about that is, yikes. Get well soon.

Tumblr, like other social media platforms, recognizes that they get more engagement if people are forced to play in the same sandbox, which is why it probably feels like you're seeing a disproportionate number of hate posts. And anyone who writes for money on the internet knows that hate clicks are often the juiciest clicks, and so they will write articles and listicles and polls with titles and subjects designed to get your blood up. It’s become increasingly difficult to avoid seeing other people’s ridiculous opinions. But that’s still the strategy that I find best helps me enjoy fandom.

So if “certain corners” of the fandom are not to your taste, anon, then my advice is this: block, blacklist, and just don’t engage. Don’t feed the trolls. Instead, put that energy into positive interactions. Make art. Comment on things you liked. Find your friends, and have conversations that inspire you and amuse you, instead of ones that make you angry and tired.

Thanks for the ask! Take care.

#robot feels ways about things

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shiorimakibawrites · 2 years ago

Text

Fantasy (Alley Cat #9)

Image Credits: kissthemgoodbye.net / Amber Kipp / Nathan Dumlao

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

Word Count: 3108

Summary: Reader is feeling anxious about upcoming discussion with Daredevil and needs to relax.

Warnings: MINORS DNI - EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT. Masturbation. Vaginal Fingering. Fantasies about oral sex (female receiving and male receiving), penis in vagina sex, and implied unprotected sex. Reader being anxious.

Can also be read here. The Masterlist for this series can be found here

Author’s Note: While trying to write the conversation between Reader and Matt, the muses informed me that was another chapter before that one could happen. A chapter involving smut. I have never written smut. I've read it. Never written it. Until now. Hopefully it isn't terrible. I now have increased respect for writers of smut. It is (hee) hard.

Fantasy

by Shiori_Makiba

You were waiting for Daredevil (who was probably Matt Murdock) to show up. At least you thought he would be visiting you tonight. There was no way to know for sure. It wasn't like you had set up a meeting with him. You just assumed that he would want to have a discussion with anyone who had discovered who he was under the mask.

Assuming you hadn't completely misinterpreting everything. You were pretty sure that you hadn't. He hadn't been subtle with his hints. At all. The only way he could have less subtle was if he had walked in and said 'I am Daredevil.'

You were ninety-nine percent certain that Daredevil and Matt Murdock were the same person but that little sliver of doubt was enough for anxiety to latch onto and make you start second-guessing yourself.

There were reasonable explanations for every hint or clue that didn't involve Murdock being Daredevil. Yes, all of them together stretched plausibility but sometimes improbable things happened. Ten years ago, if you had been asked if it was possible for a World War II soldier, a billionaire, a monster, an archer, and a lady assassin to stop an alien invasion, you would have said it was not. And yet, that is exactly what happened.

The biggest thing that was making your brain run in circles was simply that it was a very serious accusation to make. An accusation for which you had absolutely no proof. Your case was built entirely on guesswork, assumptions, and personal opinion. Any defense attorney worth their salt would able to shred it to pieces with ease.

If you were wrong, the best case scenario was that Daredevil and Murdock would find your crazy theory that they were same person to be funny. You'd be embarrassed but everyone would have a good laugh and move on. Worst case scenario? Daredevil would be offended that you would accuse his blind friend of breaking the law and violating his oaths as an attorney. He ends your friendship and you never see him again outside of the news. And you would need a new legal team because such accusations would be completely justified grounds for them to sever the attorney-client relationship with you.

You tried to distract yourself from such anxiety-fueled thoughts.

You started with Houdini. Who deserved some extra attention anyway. He gladly accepted a session with the fishing pole toy. It was always fun watching him chasing after, jumping at, and pouncing on the dancing ribbons. When he started to tire, you put the toy down and gave him some treats.

Feeling more relaxed, you made yourself comfortable on your couch and decided to continue reading your book. A fantasy romance novel that you had picked out because the swashbuckling hero in the cover art resembled Daredevil from his The Man In Black days. The plot was a little formulaic but you liked the characters and the sex scenes were steamy.

And honestly, it was far less embarrassing than the other novel you had recently purchased. A superhero romance whose half-demon hero the Red Devil was very obviously inspired by Daredevil. You hoped Daredevil never found out that you had read it. And it's two sequels. And pre-ordered the fourth and final book in the series. Because you had gotten invested in the story. And the sex scenes were really hot.

As soon as you started reading, Houdini made himself at home on your lap and started bumping your hand with his head. You took the hint and starting petting him with one hand while holding your book with the other. It didn't take long for him to start purring and then fall asleep.

You thought you had successfully headed off that anxiety spiral until the sun started to go down and that discussion with Daredevil became imminent. Soon you were too anxious to sit still and had to get off the couch. Houdini appreciated neither being woken up from his nap or being moved when he was comfortable. Which he informed you of. Loudly. Before curling up in the warm spot you had been laying in and going back to sleep.

You started pacing around the apartment and knew you were too keyed up. You needed to relax. Normally you would cook but the marinara in the slow cooker didn't need anything except to be turned to the keep warm setting. You already had enough homemade pasta in your freezer to feed several people. Which also had an ample supply of soups, sauces, and other make-ahead meals for the upcoming week. And then some. You always seemed to make too much food for one person. Granted your friends were usually happy to take your overflow. Especially Jo since she can't boil water without burning it.

Maybe that was for best. You were jittery enough that maybe handling a knife was a bad idea. Kneading bread dough was great stress relief but you were still working through the results of your last stress induced baking spree.

You needed something else. Maybe a shower? A shower sounded good. It had a lot of benefits. It would relax you. And ensure that you didn't stink when the man with the bloodhound nose showed up. Mind made up, you headed for your bedroom to grab some fresh clothes.

You were debating about what to wear – what was the appropriate attire for secret identity discussions – when your eyes landed on your copy of The Red Devil. Which was on the floor along with a couple of other books that had been in the bookcase. The cleared out space was suspiciously Houdini sized. You rolled your eyes. It seemed that you had found his new napping spot which rotated every couple of days and had included the places like the breadbox on the kitchen counter. And the molded shelf in the shower stall. His favorite seemed to be your underwear drawer. And like with the bookcase, he wasn't afraid to dump some of your panties on the floor in order to make room for himself.

You picked up the fallen books and stacked them in another spot in the bookcase. There was no point in putting them back in their shelf until Houdini got bored of napping there. He would just push them off the shelf again. Looking at the cover art of the Red Devil books with its titular hero in skin-tight red leather, you couldn't help thinking about your vigilante in red leather and Kevlar. You blushed a little remembering how many times you had re-imagined the sex scenes with Daredevil instead of Red Devil and yourself instead of the journalist heroine. The memory alone was enough get you a little worked up. Which only made you blush harder.

You shook your head and decided firmly that you were at least going to be comfortable during your potentially awkward conversation. Besides he already been exposed to your sleep wear. It wasn't going to horrify him now. So you grabbed a pair of thin sleep pants and an oversized tee shirt along with clean underwear and socks. Then headed for the bathroom.

After depositing your clothes on the counter, you reached into the shower stall and twisted the knob. With a loud hiss, the shower sputtered to life. As you waited for the water to heat up, you stripped out of your slacks, blouse, panties, bra, and socks. You tested the water but it needed another minute. Which left you with nothing to do but stand there naked in the rising steam and think.

Your mind tried to retread the same anxiety-filled spiral but you pushed away those thoughts. You were supposed to be relaxing. You needed to think of something else. Anything else.

The something else your brain finally settled on as you entered the shower stall and slide the door shut was sex. Specifically sex with Daredevil . . .

You flushed and tried think of something else. You needed to be able to look Daredevil in the eye tonight, possibly very soon if he decided to talk to you before his patrol, and that would be impossible to do if you had just been picturing him naked and getting off to it. The fact that Daredevil was probably Matt Murdock who was blind and (probably) wouldn't know that you were avoiding his eyes was irrelevant.

But your brain had decided on what it wanted to latch onto next. And that thing was imagining Daredevil naked.

His Daredevil suit wasn't skin tight but it fitted his body close enough to give your imagination a good starting point. You pictured broad shoulders, solid pecs, and abs that you could bounce a quarter off that tapered into a trim waist before flaring out into the finest ass on the East Coast. Possibly the world. Thick thighs that would encourage your legs apart whether you were on your back or straddling his lap. Powerful arms that could easily hold you up against the wall or pin you down the bed. And, through it might be setting you up for disappointment later, a big dick, long and thick enough to make you feel the stretch when he entered you, that you would feel full when he was inside you.

Your cunt began to throb with need just at the thought of him being inside you. You leaned against the wall of the shower, hissing as the coolness of the tile touched your warm skin. Using your back to brace yourself against the wall, you spread your legs. You reached a hand and was unsurprised to feel that you were already wet. What surprised you was just how wet you already were. You gasped when your fingers grazed your clit and began to rub gentle circles.

You pictured a kiss. One that started out like the one of your cheek. Just the gentle press of those soft, pink lips against yours that soon deepens into something firmer, something hungrier. You imagined those hands, rough with calluses, roaming over your body. Followed by his lips, creating a trail of fire with alternating kisses and little nips down your neck to the tops of your breasts. The light scrap of his beard scuff causing the skin to sing with sensation that would leave you squirming against his body.

You started moaning his name as your fingers increased their pace on your clit, picturing those clever fingers teasing your nipples until they tightened into stiff peaks. You would cry out when he latched onto one of the stiff peaks and sucked, arching your back to press more of your breast into his mouth.

You whined as your cunt clenched around nothing. You slide the fingers of your other hand along your soaked slit, coating your fingers in slick. You started panting as those fingers rubbed against your entrance and then began to dip inside. Soon you were pumping that finger in and out. It felt so good but not enough. You wanted more. You needed more. You quickly worked in a second finger. Which was better but you wished it was his fingers, thicker than yours, that were inside of you. But you made do and once you had a rhythm, your other hand resumed rubbing clit.

Soon the tension inside of you began to coil tighter and tighter . . . until it shattered as you came with a guttural moan. Legs trembling, you slide down the wall to sit on the floor of the shower. You felt more slick coating your thighs as your cunt clenched and twitched. You leaned your head back, closed your eyes and tried to catch your breath.

Well, you were definitely more relaxed now. And as much as you would like to sit there and enjoy your post-orgasm bliss, you needed to finish cleaning yourself before you ran out of hot water. You pushed yourself up onto still wobbly legs and reached for the soap . . .

*****************************************************************************************

Matt hadn't been trying to be a voyeur. Honestly. He had come to your apartment with the intention of speaking to you before starting his patrol. Otherwise he would be distracted and being distracted while fighting would lead to injuries. Which would annoy Claire who had been running off her feet caring not only for the civilians at her hospital who had been injured during Tuesday's attack but also the vigilantes who had responded. He made a mental note to talk to Danny about buying her a day at the spa or something. Didn't want her thinking that they didn't appreciate all of her hard work.

Furthermore, especially after his stunt at the office today, if he showed up at work tomorrow injured because he was distracted by a pretty girl, Foggy might actually kill him.

At first, his timing had seemed perfect. He had caught Houdini in the act of making his way down the fire escape. The cat made a spirited attempt to evade capture but ultimately failed. Not that he accepted his defeat quietly as Houdini immediately started monologuing at him. And squirming as soon as he started to scale the fire escape.

Which rather distracted Matt as he didn't want to accidentally drop your cat. A fall from this height could be lethal. Which would upset you greatly. He knew how much you loved your cat. Such an occurrence would also upset him as Matt had grown rather fond of Houdini.

The result was that he didn't notice the situation until he was standing on the platform by your bedroom window. But once he did, he immediately froze and didn't even notice Houdini taking advantage of his suddenly slack hold to slip out of his hands.

The scent of your arousal hung heavy in the air, stirring his cock to life. He couldn't stop himself from inhaling deeply, his tongue from sweeping out to taste the air. He wished he was in the shower with you, his nose nuzzled against your neck. Filling his lungs with your pheromones and the sweet, sweet smell of your body getting wet for him.

Or even better, laying you down on the counter and burying his face in your cunt. He wanted to feel the muscles in your thighs twitch and tremble under his hands as he licked up your slit. To hear your panting moans as he lapped at and sucked on your clit. Or started fucking you with his tongue. He hoped you would pull his hair, gripped tightly in your hand, as he drew you closer and closer to release . . .

Then he heard something that only made his twitching cock harder. You started moaning his name. Daredevil at first but soon you were also panting out Matt. Confirmation that it was him you were fantasizing about while you touched yourself . . .

It took more willpower than was pretty to leave. And even more to stop listening to you get off. One day, he promised himself. One day, if you agreed to it, he would replicate this moment but this time, he would get to participate as something other than an accidental voyeur. One of a growing list of fantasies that he hoped you would be agreeable to fulfilling someday.

But not today. Regardless of the outcome of your discussion tonight, sex wasn't happening. He wasn't going to fuck you without taking you to dinner first. He had at least that much class.

His patrol was going to be delayed. He was even more distracted now then he was before. His erection was refusing to be willed away. His cock knew what it wanted. To be buried in your sweet cunt, to feel you gripping him tightly with each thrust until he spilled himself inside you. It would have to settle for his left hand.

Once back to his apartment, Matt wasted no time stripping off his suit and pushing down his boxers, hissing with relief at the cool air on his aching cock. Your apartment wasn't very far from his but it was long enough that the silk of his boxers rubbing on his erection was starting to make him oversensitive. That same sensitivity made him sit on his impatience and retrieve the lube. It didn't smell anywhere near as good as your slick but it would have to do.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he gripped the base of his cock and began to stroke the length. He tried to imagine that it was your hands wrapped around his cock but the sensation wasn't right. Your hands were smaller than his. Softer too. He vividly recalled the feel of your hand against his when he shook your hand after signing the retainer agreement as well as your cheek under his lips.

He was looking forward to discovering if the rest of your skin was just as soft. How your curves would feel under his hands. How your breathe would hitch when he cupped your breasts or grabbed a handful of your ass.

The pace of his hand increased as his mind flicked between all the things he wanted to do with you. He wanted you to sit on his face. Gripping your hips as you moved against his mouth, chasing your orgasm. Licking and sucking you afterward until you are squirming and whining from overstimulation.

His hips gave an involuntary jerk at the thought. Another fantasy rose to the surface.

You on your knees in front of him sucking his cock. He groaned at the thought of his cock engulfed in the tight, wet mouth of your mouth. Your tongue licking his length and discovering every sensitive spot, teasing him until he begged for more. Your lips closing over just the head and sucking. Your nails digging into his thighs, the little pain adding a sweet edge to the pleasure you brought. Would you moan as he fought not to start fucking your face? Would you let him come down your throat? Would you keep sucking and licking after his release until he also started whining from overstimulation?

That did it. He swore as he began to cum, coating his hand and abdomen in a sticky mess. He worked himself until it was too much. He needed to be spent before he came near you again with your arousal lingering in the air. Or he might given into temptation and take you on your kitchen table. Even after all that, his cock still gave an aborted twitch at the thought.

He cleaned up himself and was getting the suit back on when he heard the first signs of trouble. He growled. Looks like your conversation would have to wait until after he put the fear of the Devil in some people.

Ending Notes:

The first romance novel Reader mentions is basically Stardust if Tristan was Zorro / Dread Pirate Roberts.

The Red Devil ones are basically a original novel version of Falling For The Devil (Daredevil fic by BellaGiornata here on AO3 – go read it. Yes, I know it is at current point 79 installments long. Read it anyway).

The Devil books are quite popular. There might be a screen adaptation in the works. And I may have cast Charlie Cox as the lead in said screen adaptation.

#daredevil #the alley cat series #fan fic #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader smut

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jujurose222 · 8 months ago

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As long as you are with her the further I stray from you because you are evil and you are cruel. You tell lies. You hide. You get embarrassed and wonder why. Because you’re scared of this world but you would never admit it. You are sad for the way this world has let you down time and time again. You are sad to know you’ve corrupted yourself with loose vaginas and unloving men. You are ashamed because you’ve collected sex demons like Pokémon cards.

And then you had one person who would have never ever shamed you for any of that, me. But you ruined it. And now you’re ashamed of that. You know I really did not want you to be ashamed, because I don’t want to feel sorry for you. But you know what, I don’t have to feel sorry for you, you need to feel sorry for yourself.

You are pathetic. You are a coward. You are corrupted. You are sick. You are crazy. You are delusional. You are fucking stupid. But as long you as you tell the world you are not, the crazier you get. Which also means, the further away from me you get.

You have to feel like the biggest piece of shit in the world, because you collected the trauma to make you feel like that. What you thought having so much sex is just normal? ITS NOT. It’s how sexual predators begin.

You know sometimes I see men do scary things on screen and I cannot help but wonder if you would do those scary things, I don’t even know who you are. You are a sexual criminal, but you act like you’re not. You present much differently, maybe it was all a facade with me.

All I know is, you literally refuse to change. You keep those little girls around, and then refuse to tell anyone you even admired me.

I sit here and write countless poems about how I’ve admired you, and you talk shit on my name. You say, “I didn’t mean to lead her on.” And then make me look fucking stupid because right before I found out, I said we were practically dating. Do you blame me, I hadn’t talked to a boy since the 8th. Fucking. Grade. And then Bryson, idegaf his name is being spoiled, he just looked at me and sighed. I asked him, “why are you acting like that, do you know something?” And he lied too. And then I had to find out from all those girls who hate me, they said you were all over some girl, you guys got kicked out of every room because you were just trying to fuck her. And I was at home sleeping in my bed, dreaming about you.

Feel terrible about it, you are a piece of shit. I LOVED YOU. And I never told you because I knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it.

You are mean. You hurt me more than anyone has ever hurt me before and that is saying something. You are the only person I ever admired and you let me down so bad. So bad.

And when I saw “Paige e pie” on your Spotify, all those fucking songs.

I mean fuck, all you did was lie. And I was the one who started freaking the fuck out, I was the one who began wondering who I was. I was the one who had an ego death.

It should have been you. You should have been on your bedroom floor hyperventilating and dry heaving. You should’ve punched your fucking wall. You should have released years and years worth of water works. You should have felt the boiling fucking rage I felt. You should have fantasized endless nights about slitting young girls throats, not me. You should have everyone around you telling you, you are delusional for thinking you ever had a chance, not me. You should have cut your bangs and dyed them because of the extreme identity crisis. You should have lost the ability to cum for months. You should have had to watch me update my profile picture with your replacement. You should have had to hear from people about me paying a masseuse to make me cum. You should have slashed my tires. You should have felt what I felt.

But you didn’t get to feel any of those things. And now I am happy, and you are settled with a bitch who you wish was me. A bitch who could never come close even though you wish it everyday. A bitch who I imagined killing almost everyday. A bitch who got what I wanted, and thank fucking god for that. She has to deal with you, not me. LMAO. If that ain’t karma I don’t know what is.

You are pathetic and sad. And the longer you hide from the truth the closer you are to death. I would love to pull the trigger but I guess you are already doing it for me.

And nobody’s hands hold the power mine do. You will never cum like that again you fucking loser.

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snackerdoodle · 2 years ago

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(Inspired by this post, but separate to avoid derailing.)

I’m going to get more personal here than I would really like to, but I know a lot of other people have had awful gynecologist experiences, and I hope sharing both the negative and positive experiences could help.

I have had three Pap smears. The first two were traumatic, not in a hyperbolic way but in an “I cried about them to my therapist when trying to face the idea of having to get another one and she specifically called it medical trauma” kind of way.

For me, they were extremely painful, and I was told “no it isn’t,” both by the doctors in the moment and by everything I was able to look up about Pap smears afterwards. Counterintuitively, I was also told that if it was painful, it was because I was doing something wrong. The only people I saw saying Pap smears hurt were other women who had had terrible gynecologist appointments and who were also planning on never going back.

After my first experience, I did what you are supposed to and warned my next doctor that my last experience was painful. Some warning signs that I should have left and found a different doctor include that she acted inconvenienced by that idea, and then was actively annoyed by my admission that I’d never had penis-in-vagina sex, because that would presumably have made it easier to insert the speculum. I went through with the procedure with her anyway, and she somehow couldn’t reach my cervix at first and guilted me for it while actively rooting around in my vagina. I felt like I had to go through with it once it had started, but I kind of wish I had exercised my rights and called it quits. Which is something you can absolutely do. If you’re uncomfortable with the way your doctor is talking to you, or if you think something is going wrong and your doctor is ignoring your needs, you can call off the whole thing and go somewhere else.

Aside from the physical pain and misplaced blame, in both of my bad experiences I was explicitly told that part of the problem was that I wasn’t having “real sex” (referring, of course, to penis-in-vagina sex). If anyone ever asks, I will confidently tell them that the most homophobic experiences I’ve had have been in the gynecologist’s office.

After years of being nagged by my primary care doctor and multiple therapy appointments, I researched my options and was able to find a specifically LGBTQ+ aligned clinic. In my research, I also found that, while gynecologists seem to understand and discuss the need for trauma-informed practice, it is hard to find gynecologists who describe themselves as trauma informed.

At my third Pap smear, I explained my past experiences to the doctor. After listening, the doctor gave me a list of options that could suit a variety of comfort levels. These included a traditional Pap smear, the doctor trying to swab my cervix without using a speculum, and me self administering the test in private, also without a speculum. I chose the last one, and she gave me a swab and detailed instructions on what to do. The only risk to this approach was the possibility that I might not get a usable sample. In that case, I would have to come back to the office to try again. I was able to get a usable sample on the first try, and it was so quick and easy that I’m honestly baffled that this isn’t how Pap smears are usually administered.

Some green flags at this appointment included that I was given space to explain my past experiences, I was not criticized or judged for those experiences, and the conversation about what I needed happened before any move toward the exam table. In fact, that doctor never even touched me. I was also given clear explanations of my options, and the doctor explicitly included the option of leaving the office without getting a Pap smear at all.

Pap smears do not have to be painful or traumatic, and I’m angry that I had to have the first two experiences before the third. I understand that there is probably a reason the traditional method is preferred, but I strongly believe that by actually presenting patients with options and treating us with respect, getting a Pap smear can become a significantly less awful experience. And if patients don’t feel dehumanized and abused for experiencing pain during an objectively unpleasant procedure, they might actually get the tests done.

I have been one of the women who considered just never getting any more Pap smears, in spite of the risks, and I’m glad I had an experience that changed my mind. I hope others who have had negative experiences, or even who are worried about it, are given the choices I was and are able to advocate for themselves and be heard and respected.

#Pap smear #cervical cancer #medical trauma #snackerdooodle actually makes a post #Homophobia cw a bit too #Medical cw #Gynecology

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minemorse · 1 year ago

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Aiden Hills Academy pt.3 (Caleb's Story)

“You're not in your bed again last night.” Lucia, his adoptive sister, confronts him again.

Caleb just smiled and kept writing something in his journal. “I know what you're doing to that girl, Gretta.”

“Princess, do you ever feel attached to someone, and keep it stronger?”

Lucia is just silent.

“You'll find someone like that for you.”

“Prince Caleb, you've almost been caught by Ashley. Do you think she will keep silent? Sooner or later Adria will know what happened.”

Caleb stands and pat her head. “You don't have to worry about it. I will take care of it.”

…

Caleb first met her when he was in the Wood House, a place where he wrote his journal. From the Wood House he always saw her climb to tree house and read there. She was the new girl who came this year. Third grade with good performance.

Caleb, who has no power under the sunlight, gets out from the Wood House just to approach her. She was injured and he can smell blood from her palm.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, it's just scratch.”

“I'm Caleb, third grade. You must be a new girl this year.”

“I’m Gretta. I have never seen you before.”

“Yeah, I'm not well for the past three days. Come on, I'll take care of your wound.”

“We are near Wood House. Don't worry, I won't bite you.” He said jokingly.

Gretta followed him to the house that was built with woods, even the walls too. Caleb takes the medicine storage box and starts to treat her wounds. When Gretta looked around, Caleb licked her blood and his eyes turned red. He doesn't want to scare her, he quickly bandages her wounds.

“Thank you.” Gretta smiled at him and Caleb could hear her heartbeat. “Have you lived here?”

“No, this is just my place to relax.”

After she left, Caleb saw her go to her dorm. His heartbeat faster than normal and he really wants to catch her and do something filthy to her.

After that, every night with his power he makes Gretta sleepwalking to approach him. He will suck her blood and adore her body. Lucia repeatedly warns him, but he always ignores her. He wants Gretta so bad.

…

“What’s that?” asks Adria when see two wounds in Gretta’s neck. It looks like snakebite, but too wade for snake fangs. This morning Adria is taking care of her cause she looks like had morning sickness for the past few days.

“I don’t know, when I wake up I always get something new like this.”

“So this is not the first time you’ve got that wound?”

“Yeah. Sometimes I’ve got it on my breast.”

Adria looks worried. “Does this happen when you’re sleepwalking?”

“I don’t know, maybe?”

Adria keeps silent for a moment, until she asks the weird question. “Do you ever have sex with anyone here?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“Or… maybe kind of like a dream? Do you ever feel pain in your vagina?”

“Uh… I don't know if it was related or not. But, sometimes I dream about that and when I wake up I feel pain in that area. I think it was normal because before going to sleep, sometimes I read that kind of stuff.”

“I have to go. Just rest, okay?”

Adria leaves her alone. She skipped the first subject to take care of her. Now she worried a vampire captivated Gretta. She reads in the books that a vampire was a human who had a rare blood disease. They were drinking human blood, powerful at night, and captivating young girls or men to have sex with them because they had high sexual desire. And that kind of human lived in this school.

She knew exactly who was the siren or who was the werewolf. So, it’s no wonder if vampires lived here too. Now she worried if Gretta was in danger because captivated by them.

…

Lucia looks after her on Caleb’s order. They were in the clinic and the sky was so dark tonight. No longer after that Caleb arrived.

“I think Adria knows.”

Caleb looks at Gretta who is laying there asleep. Her face was so pale. He rubbed her cheeks gently.

“That baby grows so fast. It was like three months old, and I’m afraid she can’t survive.”

“Lucia, I want you to leave.”

She stops the argument and leaves them. Caleb sat on bedside and put his ear to her belly. He smiles with happiness on his face. His baby grew inside her, and now he will make Gretta stronger for carrying their baby.

Caleb bites his wrist, sucks his own blood and holds it in his mouth. And then he opened her mouth and made her drink his blood by kiss.

Her eyes opened and he saw Caleb smiling at her.

“Caleb,”

“You’re awake.”

“What are you doing here?”

His smile is wider than before. “I’ll make you strong by carrying the baby.”

“Huh?”

“Here,”

Gretta can feel his hand under her shirt and rub her belly. She can feel the past few days as part of her body, something like growing inside.

“Now you’re carrying our baby in your womb.”

Gretta froze there. So, every night when she thinks she dreamed of having sex with someone, was it real?

Fin

#caleb #caleb love and deepspace #love and deepspace #fanfiction

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drewoclock · 1 year ago

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Drew Attempts to Depress Himself

Originally published September 19th, 2017

I don’t want to talk about this. I’ve never felt that comfortable discussing my feelings, as important as I think that is. It makes me feel vulnerable and it doesn’t feel entertaining. But this isn’t something I can keep inside anymore. This is something that’s been going on for years, and it’s really been affecting my life. It’s just that no matter what I do, and no matter what I try, I keep ending up feeling--very happy.

Every day, I feel a gentle rush of warmth as I live my life in relative comfort, and it’s horrible. I’m not even living my best life here, but my excessive amounts of hope and optimism keep me from dwelling on it. Sure, I’ll occasionally feel a little sad, but it never sticks. I keep ruining it with thoughts like “Focus on the good things!” and “Everything will turn out alright!”

What happened to me? I used to feel way more miserable. This blog was founded on me expressing misery! Did my years of learning to love myself and think productively destroy my ability to just kick back and wish I were dead? I can’t even remember what it was like to be deeply, pathetically sad, and I want to. And so, I’m going to try to reconnect with my past. I’m going to try to remember those once-familiar thoughts that made everything worse.

Hey Drew. You know those popular people, who have a lot of friends and go to a lot of events and have a lot of sex? You’re not one of them. You’ve never been one of them and you never will be one of them.

You need to be hot, and you’re not hot. You’re short. You’re always going to be short, and too many girls find that an instant turn-off. And you don’t have the right interests and hobbies anyway. And you kind of suck at conversation because you’re always worried about how uncool you are, which is a reasonable thought because it’s totally true.

So you’re gonna be really bored and stay at home playing with pencils or whatever while people that are better than you socialize and bang each other, and keep banging each other, and continue to improve upon their banging skills until they’re rather advanced at it, while you’re not even really going to be at a beginner’s banging level because you’ve never banged anyone.

And there’s an even cooler crowd you can’t fit in with. It’s like that other cool crowd, but artsy. You’d think you’d fit into this crowd because you do art, but this group is for COOL art, and your art isn’t COOL. You like jokes and Pixar movies but this group is into provocative thoughts and Russian literature and underground music and stuff. You don’t know much about any of that.

So you’ll be home pushing buttons or something and a whole other group will be dancing and banging each other, except this group you’ll wish you were a part of even more because they like art and stuff. But they’re not gonna bang you. You’re too short, and you like Toy Story too much. Maybe if Toy Story had Woody kill himself, you’d have an in, but it didn’t, so you’re not gonna get to have sex. Some really cool girls are gonna be banging and be thinking “I’m sure glad I’m banging this person instead of Drew, that Woody-loving freak.”

You could be cool, if you were better. But you’re not. You’re unattractive, and you’re bizarre, and because of that, you’re lonely, and you’re boring, and you don’t know what vaginas taste like. You had a cool girlfriend once, but you blew it, and she’s went and had a bunch of boyfriends, and you haven’t had even one girlfriend, and she’s just proving how many people out there are cooler than you.

Oh yeah, there’s those other girls you liked too. They were also too cool for your school, and your school teaches mediocrity and horrible shame. They all rejected you because they didn’t want to be with you. That’s the plain and simple truth. Does it feel weird being a virgin when you’re 23?

Hey, you graduated college a year late. Everyone that was in your grade graduated ahead of you and it makes you look like you were too stupid to graduate on time. And you didn’t work as hard as you could have in your classes, so you were never one of the super smart kids. You barely got into any colleges. You should have taken AP US History, you HACK.

You can’t take back your failures, Drew. You had potential, but you lost it. You could have been an amazing student, but instead you were an amazing stupid. You’re so stupid you thought that was an okay sentence to write. You wanted to have fun instead of work, like you always do, and so you wasted so many opportunities. You could have been a nice person, but you’ve been selfish, and you’ve hurt a lot of people. You found new potential in being a jerk. They’ll never forget.

You’ve let a lot of people down who believed in you. Some of them probably don’t believe in you anymore. Your parents are probably kinda bummed. Especially your dad. I bet your mom thought you would be in Hollywood by now. But you’re not trying to make connections, and you’re just typing this from her basement instead of trying to get a job in the city.

You’re wasting your life doing meaningless things. You used to be so much more involved. You used to be in clubs, and be social, and those days are over. You won’t do anything to change it. You’ll just be alone, being bland, being bored.

You probably won’t be famous. All the movies you dream of making? You should probably consider that those dreams will never come true. Not just because a lot of people try really hard and still fail. You won’t even try that hard. You’ll never be able to get to a point where you MIGHT make it.

You’re going to be one of those people that daydreams all the time, and at some point, you’re going to realize how old you are, and how dumb you’re being for dreaming like that. You’re destined for mediocre things. You’re destined to get by.

You probably won’t be noticed. That Mathmaticious video you made? That could be the peak of your career. The best thing you’ve ever done could be when you were fourteen, and people will talk about that video to you, and it’ll make you depressed knowing you’re never going to get attention like that again. You’re going to die without having ever become who you wanted to be. You'll let everyone who believed in you down.

Just picture the other people, who had things work out for them. And remember that you’re not those people. You’re inferior Drew. Uncool Drew. Drew that’s not as good as the other guy. Drew that’s going to have nightmares of all the feature films he’ll never get a cent to make. Picture those stories you’ve written, melting away and disappearing. Picture the emptiness that’s left. That’ll be your legacy.

Ooo. Whoa. I’ve shivering. Or at least, the room feels marginally cooler, although I’m still kinda sweaty and I should turn on a fan.

So that was me, writing on the fly, reminding myself of some of my all-time greatest hits of depression. The theme seemed to be a feeling that I absolutely would not get things that I deeply, deeply wanted because I wasn’t good enough. My natural instinct was to wipe away the negative thoughts with a much sunnier outlook, but I fought that instinct as best as I could this time around. And it kind of worked. I did feel sort of sad.

But it’s already wearing off. The positivity is already starting to creep back in. I wasn’t really able to get to that nice, sweet spot of wallowing in my own misery, but I did at least remember what the feelings felt like. The thing is, I'm someone that clearly wants things, and wants them hard. And what I want most is to be happy. Clearly, my newfound struggle to cry myself to sleep is a sign that I’m getting much better at having that happiness that I want.

And whether I like it or not, I can’t help but notice that.

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cosmonaughty · 1 year ago

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{the following entry discusses sexuality and sexual health, with brief mention of sexual abuse}

I bought a menstrual cup that I can’t use.

It was on sale and I had heard nothing but positive things about menstrual cups, so I bought it and was actually pretty excited to use it. I was, I thought, realistic in my expectation that it would take a few tries to get used to. Fortunately for me, my heaviest day fell on the weekend and I had no other commitments, so I had all day to figure it out.

After trying every position known to man, folding it into different configurations, using a water based lube, I was no closer to getting it in. I was just very sore and more than a little bit upset.I took to the internet to see if I could find a video explaining what I was doing wrong and every video I came across was the same:

Girl you have GOT to try a menstrual cup, I love love LOVE mine! There’s a bit of a learning curve but it’s SO easy and SO comfortable!

I looked in the comments of these videos to see if anyone there had the same issues I did. It was more of the same:

These changed my life! I’ll NEVER go back to tampons!

Despite the overall positive tone of these videos and comments, I found myself feeling worse upon seeing them. How could I be struggling so much with something that’s supposed to be so natural?

All of this brought me back to my experiences with sex and dating.This subject is a little bit complicated for me to discuss because I’ve recently begun to identify as gray-asexual, which may be in some way related to my physical problems (it’s hard to get excited for sex when you know it’s going to be unpleasant, after all), but I don’t want to conflate my general lack of sexual attraction with my physical dysfunction.

I know there are plenty of gray-ace and demisexual people who are fully capable of enjoying sex in some way shape or form, and I have even counted myself among them on occasion, but for the most part I find vaginal sex incredibly challenging and typically not worth the pain it causes me. As with the menstrual cup experience, I often see other people with vaginas discussing how much they enjoy sex and I feel incredulous. Early on, after I became sexually active, I was convinced that other women were lying about enjoying it. Now, of course, I realize that isn’t true, but it’s still pretty hard to wrap my head around. And again I wonder: if sex is so natural and positive (which I believe it is, or should be), why can’t I do it?

I think that a lot of people with vaginas take for granted that they can do these things easily because, like me, they believe that everyone’s experience is more or less like their own. I don’t begrudge them the ease and comfort they’re able to have. I wish I had it too, but I don’t resent them for what they have. At least, I try not to.

However, I found resentment and bitterness creeping up on me on that Saturday evening, when I was watching video after video of bubbly, well-meaning women women going:

It gets easier, just keep trying!

I thought: well, what do you know? You’ve never had to deal with what I do; how can you say it’s easy when I’m sitting here, sore and angry, knowing for a fact that it isn’t?

It made me not want to try at all. I was so disgusted, I considered throwing the cup in the trash then and there. I didn’t because, sale or no sale, I did spend more money than I’d care to waste on it.

Now I get all kinds of recommendations for videos about menstrual cups on YouTube, and one of them caught my eye recently. It was specifically addressing pain associated with menstrual cup use and what to do about it, so I decided to give it a watch. The video’s host started out by saying that using a menstrual cup shouldn’t hurt, which of course put me on the defensive immediately, but then she followed that statement with the caveat that some people are just not able to use them and that if you’re one of those people it’s okay to hit your limit and throw the towel in, so to speak. There are other products out there,after all.

Counterproductive as it might seem, this small acknowledgement actually made me feel ready to give the cup a second try, not as an “I’ll show you” act of stubbornness, but simply because being seen and being told that it’s okay if it doesn’t work for me made me feel like there was less pressure to make it work at all costs.Just a small acknowledgment like that can make a world of difference.

So what’s the point of me bringing all of this up? For one thing, I wanted to extend that same kind of acknowledgement to others who struggle with the same issues. Having a vagina isn’t all wielding the power of the moon or being a force of nature and a temple of pleasure and all these other pretty-sounding sentiments that are meant to hype us up. For some people it is, and that’s great, but if you don’t feel that for yourself, it’s not a failure on your part.

For another thing, I wanted to make people who don’t have vaginal pain more aware. Again, I don’t want you to feel bad for enjoying your body, but I do want you to be more aware of something I call “pull yourself up by your tampon straps” positivity. Telling people who struggle with products or toys or vaginal sex that they just need to relax or keep trying or insisting that it “shouldn’t hurt” is not helpful.

And I really hope it doesn’t need to be said, but just in case it does: don’t make assumptions about the source of someone else’s pain. Don’t assume that someone who experiences vaginal pain has been abused or traumatized (unless someone volunteers that information, it isn’t your business). Don’t suggest that they don’t love their partner enough or vise-versa (I seriously had someone suggest that to me when I brought this up once). This is pretty commonly regarded as something not to do for other physical ailments, and rightly so, but I don’t see sexual dysfunction come up in that kind of conversation very often, which brings me to my final reason for posting this:

There is nothing shameful about discussing sexual health. This isn’t to say that it isn’t sometimes embarrassing, even now I’m questioning whether or not I should post this, but I think it’s important. If there’s something going on with your body that is making you unhappy, you should talk to someone about it. I know this isn’t easy, especially not in the field of medicine commonly referred to as “women’s health”, which is notoriously outdated, but there are professionals out there who want to help and are willing to listen.

I’m still at the beginning of my journey with this, but I recently started seeing a gynecologist who is looking into treatments that would work for me, even with my… let’s say “complicated” medical history. With any luck, I’ll be able to report back within a year or so and let you know how it goes.

[And if you’re someone who deals with vaginal pain and isn’t particularly bothered by it, I think that’s fine too. Just please get checked to make sure there isn’t any dangerous underlying cause, which involves getting regular pap smears, yes, I’m sorry, I know they’re uncomfortable, but you gotta!]

#tmi but #psa #I never see anyone talk about this and I think we should #sexualhealth #sexualwellness #vaginismus

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